Operation Overlord...

Posted on Thursday, 30-Jul-98

March 24, 1944
London, England

Wickham met with Lydia Bennet for the last time. She was crying the silly chit, what did she expect? For him to marry her? Seriously, such naïve stupidity could be diverting but he had better things to do with his time. For one he was gathering alarming information regarding the imminent invasion of France. For some blasted reason Hitler thinks it will be Calais. But everything Wickham has collected so far pointed elsewhere, and the more he thought about it the surer he became that it was not Calais but Normandy. He had until tonight to solidify his argument and transfer it through his Swiss contact in London.

Lydia was still crying when he left her at the restaurant. He paid for the meal and was walking back to Whitehall when a man stepped in front of him. "Mr. Wickham sir?" Wickham nodded in acknowledgment.

"Could you come with us please? There is someone who needs to talk with you."

The Undersecretary paled a little, "The person can make an appointment with my assistant…"

"I really don't think that you want my name to be in your appointment book George Wickham." The man slowly turned around to a pair of cornflower blue eyes. Colonel Elliot smiled in the friendliest manner, but the smile never reached his eyes. "Please, come with us. And don't doubt for a minute, I will shoot you dead if you make one stupid move."

The group of men entered into a roomy car waiting at the curbside. Wickham became sickly pale when the car pulled into a non-descriptive building outside of the capital. They took everything he had but left him his clothing. He was sitting alone in a cell when Elliot entered into the room.

"Please don't get up, as of one this afternoon we finished our sweep. You are the last of the lot and it comes down to this. If you want to save your skin, you will tell us everything you know. In the other room is a certain Hauptmann Mahler whom I'm sure you've met before. The first one who talks lives, the second one dies by a firing squad. Good day." Elliot left the room and locked the door.

Wickham sat there shocked. He was caught, and being a spy in England meant certain death. They've got Mahler! Oh dear G-d what am I going to do… Elliot lit then finished a cigarette. The traitor could not know Mahler was already dead. The information that was passed to the Germans under the code name that belonged to the deceased sleeper was manufactured from Bletchley Park. And it's been feeding lies to the German High Command for months now.

March 30, 1944
Dover, England

Anne once again nestled into the arms of her husband. "Good morning Commodore. Care to join the rest of us living?" The man moaned and playfully hid underneath the covers. Anne laughed out loud, "Seriously Frederick, it's going to be noon if you keep this up."

"Oh? I was aiming for the evening." Was the muffled reply from underneath the blankets.

Anne clucked her tongue in a mocking manner, "Come, wake up. We need to get some food. I feel faint."

"Call down for some blasted room service and get back here." It was impossible to move the man from the bed, so Anne did call down for room service and promptly joined her husband in the warm cocoon.

"How is the baby?" He whispered into her ear.

"You can talk louder Frederick, the baby can't hear you. I'm doing fine and I'm sure the baby is doing just as well. So found any good names yet?"

"Yes, I was thinking Horatio if it's a boy." He offered in total seriousness.

"I knew I should have never asked a sailor for names." Was the tart reply he got from his wife.

April 21, 1944
Somewhere in Southern England

"So if we let you keep your original squadron status quo you, will accept the rank of Wing Commander?" Asked Group Captain Dominic Wells.

"Yes sir, I will only if I get to keep my Boys. We've gone too far together to be separated now." Darcy replied with the true stiff upper lip.

"Oh well, done. You will keep your squadron, and I will send you the information regarding the other three tomorrow. Dismissed and congratulations Darcy." The tall aristocratic man gave a perfunctory salute and left the office.

The Group Captain smiled a little. He succeeded where others have failed. Darcy was offered a rise in rank no less than four times in the last two years, and each time he turned it down. However, with this little compromise one of the original warriors of the Battle of Britain was about to end his career leading a great armada in what will be the greatest invasion in the history of man. Wells had no idea when this would happen, but believed it to be sometime next spring.

Bingley and Pyro were waiting outside when Darcy came into view with a huge grin. The two men whooped into the air and threw themselves to the new Wing Commander. The three men made an immediate beeline to the tavern to toast the newly honored Lord Ace. That was his unofficial nickname amongst his men now, another contribution from his beloved Elizabeth.

Nearly thirty miles away FitzWilliam was redrilling his group.

"Sir, must we do this now?" Asked his second-in-command. "It's such a lovely day, couldn't we go down now and get a pint o'bitter instead?"

"No, we're going to do this now. We don't have time." Was the studied response from the leader of this pack of sticks.

"Sir, that's what you said in Scotland!" Was the final cry before the Colonel leapt out of the bomber. His men grumbling from behind joined their leader in a perfectly executed jump for the second time that day.

Major Spring was watching the parachutes bloom in the clear beautiful sky while swiftly disarming and rebuilding another exploding device of his own making. Captain St. John yawned a little, watching the deft fingers do their magic. He was observing the whole thing like a hawk though. The man was beyond good - he was nearing the stage of g-dlike status amongst the Royal Engineers with his ability. Suddenly a fresh-faced boy came trotting up to them and addressed the major. "Sir, I think the Brigadier General wants to talk to you." The elfish face registered nothing then with a swift move threw a deactivated bomb to the boy's general direction. The youth gave a loud scream and ran out of the area.

"That will earn you ten years in Purgatory major." St. John drawled.

Spring gave a snort and cleared the mess off his lap. "Come on let's see what the devil is up to." The two men trotted off and walked by one very lost English soldier. Private Mist was about to go ballistic. He had no idea where the hell his platoon was located and for all he knew they could be somewhere in Italy! Spring entered the A-Building and immediately heard the booming voice of the Brigadier-General. The man looked like something out of a Hollywood flick (and whose caricature would be immortalized by Monty Python.)

"Spring come into my office. St. John you too. This involves both you clowns." They all sat down in the plush leather and wood room.

"Damnedest thing, but can both of you swim?"

Both men paused before answering. Where was all this leading?

"Yes Brigadier General." Was the curt reply from both.

"Good, here are your orders and good luck." The man was so glad to get rid of these two liabilities on legs; his face didn't even bother to hide his relief. The two men took their papers and were about to leave when the Brigadier stopped them. "Spring, next time you throw a bomb at my son, please tell the poor fool that it's disarmed." No reply was forthcoming from either man. But when they exited the building their laughter could be heard clear across the field.

Katto was driving his car off the base following a long stream of departing trucks and other vehicles. Once again he was being transferred to another location, this time he was definitely joining a French armored unit. His face was blasted from the hot sun of Africa and Sicily. The French tank commander felt his heart beat louder as he knew the only objective left now was the invasion of Europe. And he fervently prayed it to be France, it had to be France! The Impatient Lion – known as LeClerc was garnishing great reputation amongst the Allies as a great leader. And his good manners did much to assuage the bruised egos that his commanding officer, General De Gaulle was notorious for.

May 1st, 1944
London, England

Meesh ran to get some tissue from the corner store. She was basically, for all intent and purpose living in her office now. And Churchill has forgotten what it means to get some sleep. Thus all his worker bees are now reaching that ecstatic state of total sleep deprivation. Rachel gave her the change and a friendly smile as the tall elegant lady exited the small store. It was sheer miracle that the place was still standing, but Rachel didn't dwell on it. It wasn't healthy to dwell on the past, and Rachel was determined to look forward to one day where the early edition would scream out that Europe was free of that madman.

The bell tinkled again and Caroline strolled in. Oh well, it was a nice morning, Rachel thought as the cat bought her usual pack of cigarettes and sashed out of the store. Since when did one wear satin during daytime? Mused the storeowner. Caroline rang her brother.

"Darling, it's me. I'm planning to come down…"

"Don't bother Caroline, stay there. We're being transferred again to heaven knows where and we're busy enough as is." Bingley's voice was hurried and hassled. The background din was tremendous as the squadron was rushing about packing and gabbing.

"Well, more the reason for me to come visit. I'll be there by early evening." Caroline was quite determined to see Darcy again.

"Caroline, don't you understand? It won't work ol' girl. Darcy isn't going to propose to you and if it makes you feel any better he isn't going to marry anyone anytime soon." Charles' voice was deep in sympathy and some pain for his determined sibling.

"Charles, I don't know what you're talking about but if you think…" Caroline lost her temper right there and it was a bad mistake. It made Bingley's job that much easier.

"Caroline, he's still in love with Elizabeth. He doesn't talk about it but you can see it in his face. And before he goes to sleep he plays that song, "I'll Be Seeing You" over and over again. He prefers her ghost to you, sister. Get over it." The line went dead and Caroline sat there pale with fury and anger. Damn the Bennets, damn all of them!

"...This, then, is the message which we send forth today to all the States and nations, bond or free, to all the men in all the lands who care for freedom's cause, to our allies and well-wishers in Europe, to our American friends and helpers...Lift up your hearts. All will come right. Out of the depths of sorrow and sacrifice will be born again the glory of mankind."

Prime Minister Churchill
Ministers Conference, London
June 12, 1941

To Give Hitler The Worst Wake-Up Call In History.

Posted on Friday, 31-Jul-98

Monday, June 5, 1944 (16:00)
Southern Coast of England

"Sir, Sir, we've got a problem!" The man did not need to hear that as he crumpled up the sheet in front of him. The paratroopers were held at ready for weeks now, and the paper that was delivered to him from HQ said one line. "June 6th – Confirmed". Night was falling, and he was preparing to gather the commanding officers of the paratrooper squads, when the young man bolted into his office. "Sir, there was an accident and we're short of four glider pilots. Their car went off the road…"

"They were not suppose to leave the base!" Roared the man in pure anger, "How are the hell are we going to find four glider pilots in five hours?!" The younger officer paled, "Five hours sir? You mean they're going to send us in spite of this weather?"

The man knew he made a terrible mistake but nodded, "You mustn't tell anyone, not yet, but yes in less than eight hours."

"Well sir, I know one extra pilot…"

Two hours later Annie was in the office being briefed out the wazoo, but she didn't care. This is what she was waiting for, and to be a glider pilot for the British Airborne Paratroopers was an honor she wasn't about to let go. She was introduced to her group led by Colonel FitzWilliam. The man was stunned that a woman was the pilot, but unless she flew they would be left behind. And that was not acceptable. She was given her ammo, mortar and parachute, which she was very familiar with and led to the airstrip. The men piled in and she took the pilot seat. "Strap on tightly boys, if the Germans are awake we're going to get flak the likes of which you've never seen!" The field suddenly became live with the roars of the engines of the planes that would hold the gliders until their respective drop zones appeared.

The invasion actually began the night before D-Day. Late evening minesweepers came out of the darkness to sweep the path clear for the invading armada and pathfinders, another group of airborne warriors were already dropped into the target areas deep in Normandy. If they were successful, the airborne troops that would follow, such as Fitz's men of the 6th Airborne and the 101st Airborne of the American unit, would land on target marked by the pathfinders. These men were to hold certain key positions until a backup unit from the main invading force could link with them. They were told to hold, not retreat but stand ground. If the Allies lost these key junctions of roads and bridges, then that would make it easier for Rommel to repel them. And Rommel was no fool.

They were greeted with flak and immense ground fire, but Annie held her bird tight. The plane let go of the lifeline and suddenly the air was in silence, as all the engined-planes were gone. The gliders were quiet, deadly in that cloak of stealth. The only sound one could hear was the crashing of these birds when they touched the ground. Their glider cracked open like an egg ripping its wings apart on the wooded field. The men spilled out ready to kill and found the quiet night instead. They immediately shed their parachutes and armed themselves to the hilt.

FitzWilliam looked at the pale face of their pilot. "Here's another patch of ammo. Stay behind us and don't lose sight, you hear?" The woman nodded and lived all her arsenal. Her hands were steady. And the sticks melted into the night.

Then the sound came, it was bizarre because it was so out of place. It was the sound of English hunting horns. The British airborne paratroopers were being called, and for them the war is right here right now. It was some time before FitzWilliam and his group found their objective in the night, but they did. They joined Major Howard and his small band of men in holding the bridges. The paratroopers were armed lightly, for the major artillery was supposed to arrive at 3:20 in the morning. Now they hunkered down in their spots the best they could and began their agonizing wait.

Near this group, dangerously close, Marie and Marguerite furiously blew up all their assigned targets. They received their news hiding inside a farmhouse. "La rose est rouge." This was repeated twice, then the man on the BBC droned out other inane sentences. But it meant the difference of freedom and slavery for this particular Resistance cell who knew what that sentence really signified. The two women began to systematically destroy all the railroads they were suppose to target. There was constant bombardment all over the area, so they did it in relative safety. No German supply trains were coming into Normandy through their sector. And for good measure they were able to put down two supply depots. The burning buildings lit up the sky, signaling to any French who were awakened by the terrific din their horrific wait was over. This attack from the Allies and the Resistance will either succeed, or there will be many French dead the next day.

D-Day
The Channel

Tenby was still thinking about that fine dinner he had the night before - steak and eggs with real biscuits and a pint of English ale. He hadn't eaten like that since he left home. The sky was still gray with the unrisen sun, but he knew it would break out. He and his company were unceremoniously stuffed into a large convoy the night before and began to sail through the Channel. The speakers were blaring with prayers and praises in English and French. They hunkered down as the boat slowly left its dock. Tenby looked over the side and saw a sight he'd never forget. The docks were crammed with boats and there were endless stream of soldiers all heading towards the waiting armada. How he wished he brought his camera!

The sea got rougher as the convoy hit the channel and then Tenby knew what he was witnessing was a true miracle. There were ships everywhere, cruisers, destroyers, small boats, LV crafts floating lazily and patrol boats darting in and out bristling with menace. The largest armada ever seen, they were almost five thousand strong. And they were all heading for Normandy to give Hitler the worst wake-up call in history. "Jesus would you look at that?" Whispered Markson next to Tenby, "I guess they're really serious about this aren't they?" Tenby nodded slowly scanning the ocean. As far as his eyes could see there were ships and his heart let go of its fear. "No way the Fitzs can withstand this. Man, this is great!" Crowed Markson and began to recheck his ammo, making sure it was waterproof. Tenby just stared at the ships, tears slowly coming down his already dirty face. G-d has to be on their side, it didn't make sense for the Almighty to not help him fight and fight well today.

In An Airbase, England

Darcy finished his last cup, his face so calm and serene it was almost beautiful. All the harsh lines etched onto that pale visage by loss, grief and sacrifice were erased. Pyro thought that the man lost years in the few hours they spent together this morning. The mess was filled with both British and American pilots. They all heard the terrific din the night before and knew that this was the H-hour. The storm that raged for days was gone, and the sky, though somewhat cloudy, didn't present a great obstacle to these seasoned veterans. Bingley was fiddling nervously with an American half-dollar, itching to get into his Spitfire and raise some hell. He wanted this to be over, enough of the waiting!

Darcy stood up to make a speech for his squadrons. He thought about it all last night when he was told today was the day. He barely got any sleep but it mattered not. Sleep was a stranger to him now, and he had better things to do than waste time. The Americans saw the thin aristocratic figure rise to speak and hushed down. They weren't on great friendly terms with the British pilots but this man's reputation was far-flung. He was there to fight the Battle of Britain and was an Ace even by their standards. More than one American bomber group returning from Germany found protection under this man's squadron hysterically named "The Lost Boys".

"I think that a few words must be said before we take to our birds. And since I'm the Wing Commander of you idiots, I think this jolly duty falls on my lap. I wish I studied English literature better, so I could get away with quoting Shakespeare. But I've never paid real attention in lecture, so that is out of the question. Yes we Brits do tend to ignore our own literary works, even if you Yanks think we have altars in our houses for Shakespeare and Company." The laughter that came from the American half of the mess hall was genuine, as was the British half.

"I don't think there are any of us, at least on the RAF side who hasn't lost a friend or family member in this war. London was bombed since 1940, you know. And those folks, I don't know how they could take it still manage to live there and raise their families. Their bravery is not our kind, for it's deeper and greater than what we flaunt in public and private. They will never receive medals and have parades to honor them. They just…live and adjust to conditions I know I could never accept. Anyway let us remember them when we take to the air gentlemen - the shopkeepers and the teachers who refused to be terrorized by that maniac across the waters. And let us also remember all those boys whose graves are in the Channel or anywhere but England. Who flew with us when we were alone and who sacrificed their lives so that this day may come to pass. I don't think you Americans realize what we had to go through to keep this isle free, but I can assure you the price we paid was premium. Their graves are empty, you know, for their bodies are spread all over France and the Channel. And they're looking at us now, asking if their sacrifice was worth it. To give up their youth for this day, this one day. Well gentlemen what is our answer? How many Johnnies and Thomases did we chalk off from our Ops' board day after day during the summer of 1940? How many personal letters did we write to…the widows and mothers and fathers telling them how brave their sons were? I don't know about you but I wrote too many for my soul to ever fully come to terms with the losses. But now we have another duty. There are thousands of soldiers en route, as we sit here, to France. They are just as young and hopeful as those boys of '40, and I am determined to let history never repeat itself. We really don't know what awaits for them or for us today, but it's our job to make sure those soldiers land on the beaches and go inland. Let us do our duty for them gentlemen, let us not shirk our burden, because if we do, they're dead. Too many of us remember Dunkirk and Dieppe; too many losses there. Too many, but those will be nothing if we don't succeed today.

"And let me finish my speech with this. We are not going over there to 'colonize' the countries. We are going over there to fight and kill so that the enslaved nations may be free. So that the French could call themselves French again and the Dutch could wear whatever colors they chose. We won't gain new territories. We will not be rewarded with money or land. We are not going over there for booty or personal gain. We are going over there for Freedom alone. Not ours, but theirs. And they've waited long enough don't you think? Never in the history of civilization did such force gather for such a selfless cause. I do not remember ever reading in any books about an endeavor this enormous with such a goal as setting other men free. To let them be as they were before that blight darkened Europe.

"So gentlemen take heart, take courage and know that today your wings will be looked upon as wings of angels. Deadly perhaps, but know that Heaven waits for us, holding its breath. And those we loved and lost from their forgotten or undiscovered graves cry out for justice. We must repay them for their sacrifices today, not tomorrow or the day after, but today. Good luck and G-d bless. If I don't ever see you again, know that it was a pleasure flying with you. Gentlemen I commend you to your birds. And do your duty." And for the first time tears escaped from the man though his voice shook not. Bingley closed his eyes then opened them again, and they were lit with fire. Pyro checked his map one more time. Come hell or heaven he wanted today for his wingman Jack who died four years ago protecting Pyro's tail.

The Spitfire squadrons all marched out each remembering a loss that they swore vengeance for.

"Well now we know why Shakespeare was British." Murmured a Mustang pilot.

"He really does have a bone to pick with Hitler doesn't he?" Asked another in awe.

"You idiot the British have a bone to pick with that Jerry. They've been in this war since '39. Five long years man, they have got to be angry by now." Barked an officer in disgust.

The sky roared with the Spitfires' engines and Darcy's birds took to the sky joining hundreds of others, Mustangs, and Thunderbolts all whizzing around the heavier bombers. From the RAF and the USAF came Lancasters, Liberators and the Fortresses. Mixed with them were smaller bombers, and all determined to blast the hell out of the enemy positions before the infantry ever hit the beaches of Normandy.

Commodore Wentworth saw them blacken the overhead sky as they passed by heading towards the beaches. His jaw dropped open. It seemed that there were as many planes in the air as there were ships in the ocean. His heart eased itself of its worries. This was bigger, so much more thoroughly planned than he thought, and it will work! It must. Lij shouted "Coast!" The destroyers that composed his sector veered off to their designated area and once in position began shelling like crazy. It was non-stop and went on until Wentworth gave the signal, and the Commodore of HMS Laconia, Argonaut and Jubilee wasn't going to give it anytime soon.

The British who had the beaches, code-named Juno, Sword and Gold had a huge threat to neutralize. The German 21st Panzer division was based in Caen and was able to rush to the coast to repel them. Their goal was not only making it inland but also stopping the tank division from reaching the beaches of Normandy. (If looking at a map from right to left, the sectors were Sword, Juno, Gold, Omaha and Utah at the far left; the sea is north and inland is south) They had very little time to accomplish all this in a day and were on a tight schedule, just like their American counterparts.

Major Spring and his captain were the first wave of frogmen, who had about 20 minutes to clear the beaches and obstacles in the water composed of concrete blocks and iron spikes topped with mines. Spring was working fast taking little breaths of air. There was no time! The weather was uncooperative and the sea was very harsh, delaying their arrival. But he and Jeremy had no choice and worked like mad to blow up these obstacles, so when the first wave hit the shores there wouldn't be a bloodbath. A bullet whizzed by grazing the major. A sniper spotted the two just underneath the waves and made another deadly aim. Suddenly the water split again, and Spring saw red. He thought he was hit but it wasn't him, it was Jeremy. His beloved driver, the boy who accompanied him since 1940 was dead, and the sea claimed his body dragging it away with the tide.

This isn't fair, screamed Spring inside his head. He was supposed to live! He survived Africa and Sicily and the damn Blitz. He was supposed to live! But the major never stopped his hands from doing the work and partial sectors were blown clear of obstacles. He went looking for the body as he heard the landing crafts approach the beaches but he never saw Captain Jeremy St. John again. Lord Lovat and his commandos landed in Sword with all the British nonchalance they could muster. His piper immediately began to play music on his bagpipe, drawing enemy fire to him, but miraculously the man was not hit as he marched up and down the beach. Lord Lovat had another important duty now to fulfill. He had to link up with the beleaguered British paratroopers who were holding the bridges over Orne and the Caen Canal. They weren't sure if anyone was still alive over there.

In Juno the Canadians came with some sore wounds of their own. They hadn't forgotten the massacre in Dieppe and they wanted blood. With them were the French, who were hell-bent on staying in their own country, even if it meant dying on their shores. No more retreats, no more surrenders, they were home and they were going to stay.

The obstacles presented the greatest challenges for the British and the Canadians, but the onslaught never stopped and by sheer force of numbers they cleared through the enemy lines and went inland. They also had heavy armor, which actually reached their shores. These tanks, some very bizarre in shape and look, systematically began their jobs of clearing up obstacles and mines. They had broken through.

Omaha Beach

If anything could have gone wrong, it went wrong on Omaha. The Germans that were anchored in that sector were veterans and tougher than what the Allies estimated. And they were very good at making the whole sector into a kill zone. And it was here that the Americans landed. Those who survived this day named it 'Bloody Omaha'. The bombers that were supposed to lay waste to the whole area miscalculated the distance and bombed inland, some far as three miles from the target area. And unlike the British sectors there wasn't the total shelling from the ships off shore. Also most of their heavy armor never made it to the beaches, leaving the infantry to face the German guns. They didn't even get a chance. As soon as a Landing Vehicle, if it even made it to the beach, opened its ramp the Germans opened fire, killing everyone in it. Tenby was the only one to survive from his LV and this was because he jumped off the boat from the side. Horrified, Michael realized that he was sinking, as he had nearly extra 100 pounds on him. The man had to get rid of most of his ammo in order to swim and not drown. When he came to shore, it was hell.

There was very little cover, and most of the men were dead or dying. This was the first wave, and the second came to shore. They fared no better, and more bodies piled on the beaches. Michael hid behind a stack of dead soldiers and began to pray that the next wave would fare better. The third and the fourth came, and all faced the same massacre. Now the beaches were filled with dead soldiers, and the dying moaned pitifully. There was absolute chaos, for the officers who were supposed to lead were just as traumatized as the regular Joe. There was no leadership, only fear and blood. And they haven't gained an inch of ground as they lay dying underneath the German fire.

Tenby couldn't move, he tried so hard to will his body to move, but the shock blasted all sanity from the man. Suddenly he saw a movement, it was an American soldier! The man was General Cota and he was walking up and down the beach in that intense gunfire screaming for them to move. It was a surreal sight for those that watched, but the man was a living proof that courage mixed with sheer insanity could work. After watching him for a while, Tenby willed his foot to push itself out of his tragic barricade. It worked, and the nor'easter felt anger rip through him. He wasn't going to die on these beaches, he was going to die inland, and no German was going to stop him from accomplishing this.

Running straight ahead, the man collected ammo and rolling grenades. With immaculate aim he pitched the grenades like baseball hitting the barbwires and other obstacles. Through the whole tragic scene, men were coming out of their shell-shocked minds, realizing that if they stayed in their current position, they would surely die. Anger was their salvation, and they threw their lives to the whim of chance. Enlisted men and officers with individual acts of courage, no coordination whatsoever, braved their deaths, and the watching soldiers began to follow suit. Slowly but with mad determination they began to move inland and the deadlock was no more.

It was almost evening when Tenby allowed himself to sit down and not look for Germans. He had no idea where he was and didn't care. Hunger passed by him and exhaustion would never seep into his bones again. Under that calm sky the boy now turned killer wept bitterly. He broke his second rule – he couldn't keep his company alive. He lost everyone in his unit on that bloody beach of Omaha and he wasn't sure how he'd forgive himself for surviving it. The dead and the missing tolled 2500 for Omaha alone.

Lisa and Hilary were busy on the hospital boats and both were quickly realizing how ugly it was on the shores. But they worked tirelessly and without tears, even when their souls screamed in anguish from all the wounded and the dead being loaded onto their boat. After a while they decided to go ashore and work from there. Lisa took Utah and Hilary landed on Sword. Both nurses would never forget a minute of their time in Normandy for the rest of their lives.

HMS Laconia was spent; all her arsenal was gone as Wentworth ordered continuous withering fire that morning. HMS Argonaut still had some left, but not much. Wentworth heard of the tragic losses in Omaha and felt badly for those men. The news will indeed be somber back home. He was gazing at the shores of Sword, when he spotted the Union Jack fluttering in the wind. Slowly then the French Tricolor joined the British flag and the two waved in unison. He took a deep breath and slowly gave a salute to the two symbols. Then Frederick finally gave orders for his ships to return to Dover for fuel and ammunition.

FitzWilliam was not a praying man, but he was now. The first British soldiers who fought on D-Day were becoming extinct under the German attack on the bridges. Annie yet again risked her life, scuttling around for more precious ammunition, returning to her foxhole and doling out the precious bullets. The colonel smiled grimly. If he survived today, he will make sure she gets a medal and a rise in rank. Women can shoot as well as men, how much muscle does one need to pull the trigger? Annie was reloading her rifle when a noise attracted her attention to the right.

They were all wondering when and if reinforcements were coming to link up with them, when the sound of bagpipe music reached their ears. It was the last sound everyone, including the Germans, was expecting, so everyone stopped fighting. Lord Lovat came strolling into the foray. He was an hour and half late, but he came with his commandos handsome in their green berets. The Germans recovered from their initial shock and began firing immediately, but it was over. The reinforcements have arrived and more importantly the Allies had the beaches. The paratroopers were exuberant in meeting them, and FitzWilliam was no different. He felt a tug at his elbow and turned to face Jeb. "Sir, I think you should follow me." The two men walked over to a foxhole.

FitzWilliam stared at her face. He thought she was older than that, but death erased all markings from her visage. She was half out of her hole, and around her were five Germans. Somehow they flanked the place and were approaching them from behind when she caught them. The fighting must have been brief and fierce, because no one heard anything. She probably didn't even have time to call for help, FitzWilliam mused. And if L-rd was merciful she didn't suffer much.

Lord Lovat approached the exhausted men, "Dear G-d that's a woman! What is she doing here?"

"She was our pilot, sir, and she did a damn good job of it, sir. So don't make any disparaging remarks about her being a woman."

The man's voice was extremely gentle, "I wasn't about to Colonel. Since she brought you to safety, I think it's only fair that we bring her safely back to England, don't you think?" FitzWilliam nodded silently, for he couldn't trust himself to speak right now. We held the bridges Annie, we held them. G-d bless you wherever you are sweet flyer.

London, England

Meesh took a deep breath as she read the incoming reports. The news was mixed, but it looked like Operation Overlord worked. She silently bowed her head and gave prayers to heaven above for the missing and the dead, but most of all for the living. Once again she was glad that the PM never went on the actual invasion. The man was so bent on landing today that he approached Eisenhower about it. The Supreme Commander was as distraught as he could be at the idea. But Churchill would not back down and even threatened to enlist on a navy boat so he could go to Normandy. Worried, the man talked to his Chief of Staff, General Walter Bedell Smith. And the man in turn called King George.

"You boys leave Winston to me." Was the serene reply from the King of England and the Americans had to be satisfied with that. The King later called Winston and gave this opinion, "As long as you feel that it is desirable to go along, I think it's my duty to go along with you." Churchill threw in the towel, but managed to grouse about it for a while.

It was after midnight when Meesh left her office and made a straight line to the nearest church. Every single church all over England and the United States was open for people to walk in and pray, and Meesh had many to keep vigil with her that night.

Rachel was three pews in front of the Assistant to the Prime Minister. She was there since noon when she heard about the invasion. She ran out of prayers long ago, but believed that if she stayed, then maybe G-d would listen, for she wasn't a churchgoer. And if a heathen like her comes to his house to ask for something, well it's got to be important right? Not to mention desperate…

"Carolyn, everything's set. You're ready?" The singer nodded. She was exhausted, emotionally and mentally, but she promised she'd do this radio show tonight. And she knew there would be hundreds of soldiers listening. She couldn't disappoint them.

"This is for all you men and women who gave everything you had today here and over there. I'm going to sing a hymn that is familiar to both Americans and English. It was Cowper, an Englishman who wrote this hymn, and I found the original text. So sit down and make yourself comfortable if you can. This is for all of you from all of us here at home. We love you, we miss you and we are very, very proud of you."

There was no orchestra, no big band to accompany that clear sweet voice and it rung like a child's laughter. All the listeners that heard the program that night felt its power and allowed themselves to grieve and rejoice with it

Amazing grace! (How sweet the sound)
That sav'd a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears reliev'd;
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believ'd!

Thro' many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promis'd good to me,
His word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease;
I shall possess, within the vail,
A life of joy and peace.

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, who call'd me here below,
Will be forever mine.

Amazing grace! (How sweet the sound)
That sav'd a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

Lizzie curled up on the chair, sitting in the dark and she sang with the beautiful voice the hymn she loved so much as a child. She'd been keeping up with the news all day. The listeners had to be incredibly careful to not show any jubilation lest they get caught. But it was night now, and no one would disturb her, so she finally let her tears have free reign. It will be a while yet, but she was going home, so she had to endure it just a while longer. The Allies will liberate Paris next, for everyone knew that whoever controlled Paris controlled France. But her belief was mislaid. General Dwight D. Eisenhower decided that they would skirt the French capital. Their main objective was to drive the German Army from France and cross the Rhine in a race to get to Berlin. Paris was too far from their goal and it would cost too much to take the city from its occupiers. The Allies were going to encircle the city and bypass it. They weren't going to Paris at all.

Author's Note: normandy.eb.com is a site I highly recommend to get a great overview of D-Day in general. And they also have a special section dedicated to Saving Private Ryan. I personally recommend this movie but beware the war scenes are violent in the extreme.

Aux Barricades!!

Posted on Friday, 31-Jul-98

August 20, 1944
Paris, France

Choltitz was given the reign to control Paris because of two things. First he was a loyal soldier; second he never questioned his High Command. The man was supposed to be perfect for ruling, and if necessary, destroying Paris. And he has a resume to show to the world that he was quite capable of leveling this city like he did to so many cities before. But this was different. This was Paris, and even to this battle-scarred hard-hearted German the name possessed magic and beauty. And there was another reason why this man was so shaken with uncertainty. He met Hitler when he was given control of the city and what he saw in that bunker unnerved him. The Prussian general was shaken to his core at the transformation of his beloved leader to this bizarre caricature of his former self. Gone was the powerful voice and the arrogant strut, there was just rage bordering on insanity. If Hitler wanted a vote of confidence from this man, he wasn't going to get it and Choltitz, now the new Befehlshaber (fortress commander) of legendary Paris, was left with worries, fears, and most of all disillusionment. Fate dealt the capital of France a kind hand this day.

The Allies still weren't going to come, and wouldn't have, if one man hadn't risked it all and visited them. The man was part of the communist Resistance, and his name was Roger Gallois. He smuggled himself through the German lines and first visited Patton. The exhausted and dirty Frenchman told him that there was an insurrection in Paris, the Parisians had more than enough and taken the matter into their own hands. And if the Allies don't come, Paris would be bathed in blood. Patton didn't think the Allies would help even with that situation, but directed him towards another man - General Bradley. This time the man was successful. Nobody wanted to abandon Paris to an assured massacre. Neither history nor France would ever forgive if they did that. Warsaw was a bright and ugly reminder to all what happens when there's an insurrection and no aid. And the Alllied Command had a pretty good inkling that De Gaulle, who was always a great pain in the derriere was planning to go there with or without their consent. Gallois, the Frenchman who poured his Gaelic soul to his cause, succeeded in convincing the Allied Command to change their route. They were going to Paris.

Katto was part of the 2nd French Armored Division and he was just finishing his coffee when a rumbling came down the line. "Move! We're going to Paname." (Paname was a nickname for Paris) Katto stopped everything and took a deep breath. Then rushed like mad and packed his few belongings into his tank Edith Piaf. They were going to Paris and he was going home. With them would be the 4th U.S. Infantry Division as a back up. They were a group of fierce fighters who were exhilarated to go to the capital. Amongst them was Michael Tenby who only saw Paris through the glamour of Hollywood. Even he had to admit he was excited and trudged through the rain to get to the fabled capital.

Within the Resistance in Paris there was another war going on. There were two factions that split the group, one was the Gaullists and the other was the Communists. And it was a bitter struggle for power between the two. However when the fighting broke out they had bigger worries, like the German tanks that roamed the streets looking for Resistance to kill. The situation was even worse than that actually, and the Allies would be informed of it the next day. Choltitz received formal orders from Hitler to blow up Paris. He was to reduce the city into utter ruin and kill as many Parisians as possible if necessary. For the first time the perfect Nazi soldier disobeyed and held the city in hopes that, of all things, the Allies would come faster. The Allies didn't disappoint.

Within the streets the Resistance fighters like Leah, Lisa-Michelle and Lizzie shed their skin as normal citizens. They had no choice now and joined the freedom fighters in holding the Germans at bay. They heard by whispered rumors only that the Allies were coming, and it would be matter of days if not hours. They job was to spy on the Germans who were slowly turning the whole city into one huge bomb. They mapped the areas where these explosives were placed and gave the data to a core center that kept a record of all this up-to-date. Lizzie kept bustling through the Parisian back streets wearing man's pants and a rifle slung over her shoulder. For tonight she was following a German panther as the tank slowly rolled in front of her, scoping the area. If she found its nest, then a concentrated attack might destroy a whole group of them. She was risking her life every second, because if a sniper saw her, she would be an open target, but she didn't care anymore. This city, this beautiful monument to beauty and grandeur was worth her life.

August 25, 1944
La Liberation de Paris

The day was flawless; it was such perfect weather, but no Parisians stepped outside to enjoy the sun and the blue sky. Katto was slowly leading his tanks into the city, and it was an eerie affair. There was no one, not a single soul in the streets. Suddenly someone screamed "Francais! Francais!" And doors exploded with people rushing in to greet their saviors. Katto's tanks were overwhelmed with ecstatic French and the unit had to halt. The French commander waited for fours years for this, and the homecoming was worth every single minute he spent away from his beloved city.

Tenby also enjoyed the same reception. He was walking with his unit led by a jeep. The total silence that greeted them was disturbing, "Les Americains!" Someone shouted in that gorgeous French accent, and in a matter of moments the roads became packed with greeting Parisians. For the first time since D-Day, he felt good. Lizzie was watching this from a window and she began to laugh, the Allies did come! She was free! Then suddenly someone played a piece of music that was forbidden for four years, it was "La Marseillaise" and her laughter turned to tears.

Choltitz was given an order, and now HQ wanted to know if the demolition of the city has begun? The man did not answer. The Allies were here, and the situation was now mercifully out of his hands. All he did now was wait to be arrested and taken prisoner.

Tenby circled a building that looked so fortified it screamed Gestapo. His company slowly took positions around the area and then stormed the concrete building. The German personnel abandoned it hours ago. But what was left behind was something that Tenby would never forget. The place was a prison for Jews and other undesirables. The Americans opened the locked doors, and slowly one by one they came out of their cells. They were being starved to death and most lost their families to those cattle trains. Tenby stood there as they rustled about like dried leaves blowing in the wind. Suddenly something soft was pressed into his hand and he turned to his right. It was an old man whose skull was visible beneath the skin. "Merci monsieur Americain. Merci." Tenby blinked and saw what the man gave him. It was the yellow Star of David the innocent man had to wear for years. Then slowly the old man shuffled away.

Tenby blinked once, then twice as tears came rushing through. He didn't think he had any left since the landing, but he was proven wrong. In spite of all the inhumanity and ugly treatment that poor grandfather was forced to bear and witness, he still had his soul left to thank his rescuer. Tenby took that Star and later patched it to the inside of his helmet. In December of 1944 Michael would be caught in the Battle of the Bulge and suffer greatly. But whenever he felt like complaining or moaning his fate, he would take off his helmet and look at that yellow badge and remember that old man. And then things didn't look as bad.

August 25, 1944 General Choltitz formally surrendered Paris to the Allied forces, and now Paris was able to celebrate and throw the party of the century. Anyone who was fortunate enough to witness this event would swear up and down that there was nothing like it. And knowing the French it had to be true.

August 27, 1944
North of Paris, France

Marie and Marguerite braced themselves for the impact of the explosion. They were told that a train carrying thousands of prisoners from Paris was heading this way and it was up to them to stop it. The train itself didn't have many German guards, but still there were German soldiers guarding the rails. The two women sneaked in the middle of the night to blow up the railroad tracks, but had only enough time to plant the devices. Then the two hid until dawn when they had a chance to arm the explosives. Both women had to stay to make sure the thing went off!

Marie turned the switch live but there was nothing. Both paled and Marguerite checked the line using her binoculars. One of the wires got loose from the device and that meant that the whole sabotage scheme was a failure. The two women then heard a faint train whistle and Marie moaned in despair. Hundreds, thousands would be carted off to Germany and to those camps…Marguerite whispered fiercely, "Cover me." Marie was shocked, it was a suicide mission if Marguerite ran down there! But she was too late to stop the woman as she bolted out from the bushes and ran down the hill. Sure enough a German sniper began firing immediately as she hit the clearing around the tracks. Marie didn't think twice and began firing back.

My daughter could be in the train, Marguerite muttered to herself, my precious Leah could be turned into a victim because I failed. The mother focused on the fuses and reconnected them. Without a thought to spare she detonated the bomb from where she was and the explosions followed, making the tracks totally impassable. Marie didn't look back as soon as she realized what Marguerite was going to do. She ran away from the place and it was almost a mile before she realized she was crying. She hadn't cried since the summer of 1940. She finally met up with a large Resistance force, and they doubled back to take care of the halted train. The Germans knew better than to stick around and abandoned the train on the tracks.

Leah wasn't on that train, she was safe in Paris back at the University and walking around the city with her friends Lisa-Michelle and Lizzie. It would be over a month before Marie found her to give her the news of her mother's death.

September 1, 1944
Paris, France

Lizzie had on her best suit and shoes for this visit. She marched into the Administrative Building that the Allies set up in order to process all the non-French who were trapped behind the lines. She waited patiently in spite of the near hour wait.

"Miss Bennet?" Lizzie felt her heart stop. It was so long, so long…

She turned around and faced a man she did not expect to see. It was Darcy. The two looked at each other in total shock.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, is that you?"

Lizzie nodded in response. "Lord Ace, what are you doing here? I thought that the RAF would be located in the outskirts of Paris."

"This building is also the general staff building for the Allied forces in Paris. I was here to pick up some paperwork. Miss Bennet, are you well?"

She laughed at such formality, and he blushed, but neither moved closer for fear of destroying this moment. "As well as could be Lord Ace. But I think it's safe to say I've had better years." Then her laughter really broke through, and he grinned from ear to ear.

"LIZZIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Shouted Bingley as he entered the building, wondering where the heck Darcy disappeared to. "Oh my G-d!! We missed you, and I married Jane, and Lydia is a nurse now and …" The lady in question was ushered through immediately and was taken custody of by the RAF. The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up, and Bingley went off to dispatch a telegram to Jane who was in London now.

" Lizzie alive stop Will return to England stop Says she loves you stop and Kisses for family stop"

Jane went into a dead faint when she received the telegram.

Then night arrived, and once again Paris was her beautiful carefree self. It had to be cautious, as there were unexpected dangers like UXB, but Spring and his folks were batting about the city taking care of that mess while partaking the city's flow of life and cheer. Lizzie found herself alone with Darcy as midnight came to pass and she decided to give the man an impromptu tour of the city. They were walking by the Seine and the woman was busy pointing out everything she could when a song flirted out the window. Someone had the BBC on and as an act of freedom broadcasted the whole thing as loud as he could out the window. After all, free people could listen to what they wanted. The big band mournfully began, and Darcy bent his head to the side as if to ask for permission. She smiled and took his hand as Carolyn's old but famous tune came through the radio.

I'll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
All day and through

In that small cafe
The park across the way
The children's carrousel
The chestnut trees
The wishing well

I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way

I'll find in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you

I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way

I'll find in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you

The two stood there in the gentle darkness long after the music was done. And both knew that they would never let go.

A Final Tribute...

Posted on Friday, 31-Jul-98

January 30, 1965
London, England

321,360 visited Westminster Hall, waiting in the bitter and cold wind of London to pay their last respects. It was a somber and painful sight to see the long line, but the people didn't reflect the cold without, for they were suffering the cold within. Sir Winston Churchill was dead, and England and the world were to pay their last respects to this man today.

The day finally began and the television viewers were treated to a sight that they would never forget. The RAF came, his beloved Few, dressed in their uniforms reminded the people who were watching what that man did for this nation, for all the nations during World War II. 300 RAF officers formed the front of the column and began their march. The only sound that would keep time in the beginning was the beating of the single drum and in spite of its solo voice everyone heard it. Within this column was history herself. The Royal Navy resplendent in their uniforms of blue and gold marched with the Battle of Britain pilots. There were insignias older than American history, dating to medieval times. There were Lords and Generals and Admirals aplenty. But there was only one Winston Churchill, and his coffin was in the midst of all this color and somber grief.

The column slowly made its way from Westminster's Hall to St. Paul's, another great symbol of British endurance during the Blitz of 1940. The funeral route was lined and packed with mourners, and when the procession came into view the mass stopped all movement to watch and grieve. The Archbishop of Canterbury waited, and so did President de Gaulle who had such a stormy relationship with the late Prime Minister. Queen Elizabeth came with the Queen Mother, and accompanying her was the Duke of Edinburgh and her son Prince Charles. They did not come today to receive tribute, but to give theirs. There were kings and queens, dignitaries and ambassadors, friends of Churchill from the war years, and they filled the huge cathedral to its limit. General Eisenhower sat amongst this elite and royal band of mourners, remembering the man who was such a fighter. Churchill gave a speech back in 1941 to Harrow School and there he said with that furious voice of his, "Never give in, never, never, never, never – in nothing, great or small, large or petty – never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense." And somehow he didn't, when it seemed like everyone else did.

Within the cathedral there was silence, outside it was the same. After the ceremony with pageantry that so defined the English, his coffin was placed on the ship Havengore which in turned delivered its precious cargo to a pier where a hearse awaited for him. The Churchill family followed and the whole convoy drove to Waterloo Station. There a train named Winston Churchill waited on platform 11 to finally deliver the man to his resting-place.

History is never kind, only forgetful. And descendants like us judge with even harsher eye because we have the damning gift of hindsight. This war that raged from one end of the world to the other created heroes and monsters that still define our world today. Two words 'concentration' and 'camp' when added together brings images and stories that revolt us still. In this midst of hell and fury of a madman, people fought back for what they believed was right and just. And they died for it. And amongst this blessed group was a short man who was half-English, half-American. He was shrewd and cunning, after all he was a politician. But he was fierce and determined and knew what was right and wrong. It was upon this podium that Winston Churchill climbed and shook his fist to Hitler's mighty Nazi Europe. Even when no one else would join him, he did it anyway. His weapon was just like Hitler's, he used his voice and his incredible command of the English language to raise the souls and courage of anyone willing to listen. Finally the world did, and I think it's safe to say we here today are all better because of it.

Author's note:

First of all I thank everyone for their encouraging words and kind notes. It does this author so much good to know that people are enjoying my stories. I'm sure everyone is basically familiar with Jane Austen's characters that are woven into my story, but I'm not so sure if everyone realizes how many of the locals have volunteered to be in on this campaign. So in no order whatsoever:

Marie Lallier (Resistance)	Alice
Marguerite (Resistance)	Peg
Leah (Resistance)	Leah
Lisa-Michelle (Resistance)	Lisa-Michelle
Lieutenant Lij (Royal Navy)	Lise
Carolyn (USO)	Carolyn E. of BoI
Flying Officer Pyro (RAF)	Pyro
Hilary (Benton Hospital)	Hilary
Meesh (PM Aide)	Meesh
Vivian (Biggin Hill)	Vivian
Dr. Richard Hanson (Boffin)	Yours truly :)
Major Spring (Royal Engineers)	Spring
Rachel (London)	Rachel
Private Tenby (Massachusetts)	Tenby
Tank Commander Katto (France)	Katt
Lisa Frei (Chief of Nursing staff at Benton)	Lisa
Annie (Flyer and pilot for WAAF)	Annie
Soldier Mist (England)	Mist

They were kind enough to volunteer so let's give them all a big applause!!

The following are the books I've read and collected over the years regarding this subject. And I've either actively used them as reference materials for this story or unconsciously remembered them. And once again in no order whatsoever:

• The Churchill Years,    by The Viking Press and The Times of London

• Churchill Speaks 1897-1963 Collected Speeches in Peace and War Edited by Robert Rhodes

• Their Finest Hour, The Battle of Britain Remembered    by Richard Collier and Philip Kaplan

• Duel of Eagles    by Peter Townsend

• The Odds Against Us    by Peter Townsend

• Fighter, The True Story of Battle of Britain    by Len Deighton

• Engage the Enemy More Closely, The Royal Navy in the Second World War by Correlli Barnett

• 1940: The Avalanche    by Richard Collier

• Eagle Day    by Richard Collier

• The Sands of Dunkirk    by Richard Collier

• Is Paris Burning?    by Larry Collins and Dominique LaPierre

• The Blitz    by Constantine FitzGibbon

• The Longest Day    by Cornelius Ryan

• The D-Day Atlas, The Definitive Account of the Allied Invasion of Normandy by John Man

• The War in the Air; The Royal Air Force in World War II Edited by Gavin Lyall

• Hitler's Willing Executioners, Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust by Daniel J. Goldhagen

• Schindler's List        by Thomas Keneally

• Schindler's Legacy: True Stories of the List Survivors    by Elinor J. Brecher & Jill Freedman

The above books give very thorough account in their respective topics and I would recommend them on a drop if one should chose to loan them from the library or purchase them in a bookstore.

And these are the websites I've visited and sought information from:

• The Churchill Society

• Winston Churchill Home Page

• The Royal Navy

• Groliers World War II Site

• The Encyclopedia Britannica Site

• Codebreaking (A Great Site For Enigma History)

In the combat arena:

• Longest Day
• Saving Private Ryan
• A Midnight Clear
• Battleground
• Battle of Britain
• The Great Escape
• The Big Red One
• Catch-22
• The Train
• Is Paris Burning?
• Patton
• Soldier of Orange
• Von Ryan's Express
• The Enemy Below
• Memphis Belle

In the civilian arena:

• Schindler's List
• Au Revoir Les Enfants
• The Best Years of Our Lives
• Hope and Glory
• Danger UXB (Video series)
• The Pawnbroker
• Ship of Fools
• The White Cliffs of Dover
• Mrs. Miniver
• Edge of Darkness
• Empire of the Sun
• Young Winston

And finally, I was perusing over Chapter 29 and reading Darcy's speech (feeling proud of it), when I began to get a bad feeling. I checked all my sources to see if I misquoted or misused and found nothing. Then I realized something and plugged in the great movie Gettysburg. There was a speech by Colonel Chamberlain to the Maine Mutineers. Though the words are different, the idea is the same and since Michael Shaara who wrote the book Killer Angels from which the movie was based on did it infinitely better, I must bow and give the man the credit. It's in that fine line of inspiration and memory, so I must mention it here. If anyone's interested that book is a great novel, and the movie did it justice.

Thank you and good night.
Jimmy