The German Peace

by Derek Pennington

  His reply was in the American diplomatic pouch on the same aircraft to London as Jeremy’s.

  LANCASHIRE - ENGLAND

  The wedding was over and the guests had dispersed to wherever they lived or were staying. Jeremy and Erica were having a nightcap with Jamie and Katherine, and Jeremy’s brother George, at a cosy traditional English pub just over a mile from Blackstone senior’s house where they were all staying for the weekend.

  It was Katherine who was the first to voice what had been on everyone’s mind. “I am afraid our dear brother has bought himself a whole heap of trouble. It isn’t the fact that she is young enough to be his daughter, I have no real problem with that. It is just that I think she sees James as a meal ticket. I talked with her a lot, not because I found her interesting, which she definitely isn’t, but to try and get to know her. She is undoubtedly materialistic and, I suspect, work-shy. She is also very much in love with the status of being married to a Member of Parliament.”

  Now that the subject had been broached Jeremy felt he had to make a comment. “I think you may possibly be right, Kath. Time will tell.” He was inclined to agree with his sister.

  It was Erica who had noticed what none of the others had. “I suppose none of you saw the way she could not take her eyes off Jamie?” she asked sweetly.

  Now all five of them started talking at the same time. Erica had stirred the pot and Jamie was the subject of various humorous comments. He had no trouble laughing them off.

  George had the final say. “I think Jamie is safe, at least for the foreseeable future. I am only a poor country doctor, but studying our new sister-in-law from a distance today, I think it is by no means impossible that she may present us with a new nephew or niece soon.” He said this with a big grin on his face. George had always been the one in the family with a wicked sense of humour.

  This caused more intensive speculation and chatter. Eventually Jeremy decided he had had enough. It was time for bed. “Come on everybody, drink up. You know father will wait up for us, so let’s go home.”

  George, ever the comedian, could not resist one more quip. “It is a good thing that James and Fiona are staying at the hotel tonight, and not with us,” he said with a straight face.

  Jeremy, as always, fell for George’s bait. “Why?” he asked.

  “Fiona may have gone wandering in the middle of the night and by mistake end up in Jamie’s bedroom.” He burst out laughing, soon followed by the two men. Erica giggled, but Katherine was not amused.

  BERLIN - 5 APRIL

  Jamie MacLellan had just finished an early breakfast and was looking forward to the rest of the day. All the military attaches of the countries within the European Alliance had been invited by the Luftwaffe to a demonstration of Germany’s new jet fighter, the ME262. Although the USA was not an Alliance member, it was regarded as a friendly nation and Captain MacLellan was their representative. Jeremy Blackstone would be there on behalf of Great Britain. He and Jamie would be travelling together in the British Embassy car.

  They duly arrived at the air base on the outskirts of Berlin. Their documents were politely checked and they were escorted to a pavilion temporarily erected near the edge of the landing strip. There was a crowd of about two hundred assembled from the air forces, armies and navies of Western Europe, all eager to see the new wonder weapon scheduled to appear above them at ten thirty. They were lucky, it was a beautiful clear, if somewhat cold, day.

  Close to the scheduled time Jamie noticed heads continually raised skywards in anticipation.

  When the jet arrived, it did so in a spectacular fashion. The pilot had completed the last part of his journey at low altitude so his approach was unseen and unheard. Right at the last moment he lifted the aircraft’s nose slightly and pushed the throttles forward to maximum. He blasted over the stunned guests at a height of seventy metres and a speed of over eight hundred kilometres per hour .

  The guests were now treated to fifteen minutes of rolls, loops, and tight combat turns before the aircraft landed and taxied to a halt fifty metres from the captivated audience. The pilot disembarked and walked towards them. Jeremy immediately recognised him as Adolf Galland, General Rommel’s aide at the Lisbon peace conference.

  All the guests were now invited to inspect the aircraft up close. They already knew that this was the fastest and most heavily armed fighter in the world. There was no one present who was not supremely impressed, and happy that this superb weapon was to be the standard fighter aircraft of the European Alliance, except perhaps a few thoughtful and envious souls who worried about the impact on manufacturing and technology in their own countries of such massive German dominance across research, design and production in the field of warfare.

  There was no other aircraft in the entire world that even came close to the ME262.

  Jeremy caught Galland’s eye and was recognised instantly. He and Jamie managed to extricate him from the many questioning people surrounding him, and treated him to a cup of coffee. In the brief ten minutes they had him to themselves, they found out a little more about the aircraft and other things.

  The final version of the ME262 that would go into production towards the end of the year would be even faster and have a longer range. A ground attack version would also be produced, as well as a naval variant for aircraft carrier service. He also told them that plans for even more futuristic jet aircraft were on the drawing board. Aircraft whose performance would only have been dreamt about a year ago.

  Galland finally excused himself. His aircraft had been refuelled and checked. He was leaving.

  On their way home Jeremy and Jamie had much to talk about.

  LONDON - 6 APRIL

  The announcement had been made. The National Government would be dissolved and new elections take place on 20 May. This would be the first General Election in seven years.

  The leader of the Labour Party, Clement Atlee, urged on by others in his party, scented an opportunity to become the dominant political party in Britain. He grasped the opportunity with both hands. It didn’t matter that the coalition government had worked well and Britain was prospering under it.

  The Labour Party wanted power!

  ROME - 7 APRIL

  King Victor Emmanuel had agreed on a strategy with his long-time associate, Marshall Pietro Badoglio, seventy one years old and an undistinguished General from the Great War. Together they would secretly use their influence on the members of the Grand Council of the Fascist Government, with a view to removing Mussolini from power. Each and every incidence of unrest among the populace and in the colonies was noted and reported to the council members. For the first time they began to truly understand the reality of the situation that Italy was in.

  They made their plans.

  ROME - 25 APRIL

  At a long, and at times discordant, meeting of the Grand Council held the previous evening and which had lasted into the early hours of this morning, the future of Italy had been the subject of intense discussion. The urgent need for action was eventually agreed, and, after another hour of arguing, the proposed form of the action was reluctantly approved. All those present were apprehensive about facing down their leader, but they had nevertheless collectively summoned the courage to vote in favour of a transfer of Mussolini’s powers to the King. They then fearfully adjourned the meeting.

  Later that morning a sick, tired and unkempt Mussolini kept his routine daily appointment with the King. It was known that the dictator was suffering from depression, insomnia and bouts of sickness. When he entered his chambers, the King thought he looked like a dead man walking. When did the man last bathe?

  King Victor Emmanuel had steeled himself for a confrontation and wasted no time. He curtly told him that he was dismissed as Prime Minister. Marshall Badoglio was to be his successor. The now ex-dictator seemed almost paralysed and, most surprisingly, offered no objections. He meekly walked out. The King nearly fainted with relief!

  As he exited the King’s chambers, the po
lice were waiting outside and arrested him.

  The announcement later that day of Mussolini’s arrest and the appointment of a new Prime Minister to rule jointly with the King, was greeted with relief by the majority of the public. They could now look forward to being ruled by a more competent and enlightened regime. There was some rejoicing in the streets.

  That same day the bewildered ex-dictator was transported under police guard to the Island of Ponza, one hundred and ten kilometres off the coast of Naples. The same island that he had previously often used to confine his political enemies. Now it was his turn.

  He remained on the island only ten days, during which time he had freedom to move about, although he was closely watched by the local Carabinieri. He seemed to be depressed all the time, and was using drugs. The local islanders virtually ignored him. His home was now a small, ill-furnished cottage. Its last tenant had also been one of Mussolini’s prisoners. He hadn’t liked it either.

  On the eleventh day of his captivity, in the late afternoon, a motor launch of the Royal Italian Navy arrived unannounced at the island. It tied up at the small stone jetty. The senior Carabinieri walked down to investigate.

  The naval party carried orders to move the prisoner back to the mainland. This was for his own safety as it was believed Italian or Albanian communists may attempt to assassinate or kidnap him. The launch was commanded by a young, very tall, incredibly thin naval lieutenant whose white hair almost gave him the look of an albino.

  During the four hour passage, a completely miserable Mussolini was sea sick constantly. He had, however, during one of the moments when his rebellious stomach allowed him onto the open deck, elicited from the not so talkative young officer, that he was being taken to a quiet beach near Naples where they would be met by more police guards and escorted elsewhere to a safe residence. Also there to meet him would be his mistress, Claretta Pelacci.

  The ex-dictator felt new hope and resolution flare within him. His mind started working again. He would rouse his supporters and resume his leadership of Italy. The treacherous King would be deposed and exiled. The useless Marshall Badaglio would be tried and executed. But first, more retching and vomiting.

  It was already dark as the launch nosed on to the almost deserted beach near Naples. The naval Lieutenant was first to alight from the bow of the boat, managing to keep his feet dry. He assisted a grateful and weak Mussolini down onto the land, and ordered the boat crew to leave him and take the launch back to base.

  In the gloom beyond the beach they could see the outline of two vehicles, a truck and a motor car, and a small group of people. On the beach itself, between the people and the boat, stood a single person. It was Claretta Pelacci, waiting for her Benito!

  Mussolini in his black overcoat and black felt hat, hastily stumbled through the sand towards her, closely followed by the naval Lieutenant.

  The lovers embraced and whispered endearments. They were so glad to be together again. Claretta had thought she would never see her Benito again. She now believed that their situation could only get better. Perhaps they would be allowed to live quietly together away from all the politics! They kissed passionately.

  This was the signal for the young naval Lieutenant to put a bullet into the back of the ex-dictator. As he fell forward, still clutching the woman, a second bullet was put into Claretta’s heart. She hadn’t even had time to scream. They were both dead.

  The men around the vehicles now came forward. They briefly scanned the bodies using a dim lantern, whispering among themselves. They confirmed the identities of the bodies. One of them exclaimed, “It’s Big-Head and his whore.” Nothing more was said by anyone and they loaded the two corpses onto the truck, covered them with an old canvas sheet, and drove away into the night.

  The tall thin naval officer walked up to the car, climbed into it, and was driven away towards Naples without a word being spoken. His identity was never discovered.

  The following morning those citizens of Naples who had risen early and were passing through one of the city squares, were shocked to see two bodies hanging from a lamp post, strung up by their feet. They were soon recognised as Il Duce Mussolini, and his mistress. The news quickly spread and a crowd gathered to see this unexpected and shocking sight. Many in the crowd took great delight in verbally insulting, and even physically abusing, the remains of the couple. Many photographs were taken. Rumour had it that communist agitators were responsible for the executions. The perpetrators were never identified.

  Thus ended Fascism in Italy.

  MAY

  LONDON

  The investiture of Baron von Altendorf had taken place at Buckingham Palace. The pomp and ceremony that surrounded the event had almost overwhelmed the emotions of the normally reserved Baron. No country in the world even came close to the British in staging ceremonial occasions.

  His entire family had been there to witness the honour bestowed upon him. Even General von Brauchitsch had forsaken his dislike of foreign travel to be with his colleague and friend. Winston Churchill and the Deputy Prime Minister, Clement Atlee, together with Lord Halifax and the current Foreign Secretary, Sir Anthony Eden, were among the first guests to congratulate him. All of these were currently out of a permanent job following the dissolution of parliament before the general election to be held the following week.

  Despite the war between them only two years earlier, there was almost universal agreement in Britain and Germany that relations between their two countries were extremely close. In a private meeting with von Altendorf and von Brauchitsch, both Churchill and Attlee had echoed this sentiment. Both of them were also extremely enthusiastic about Britain’s new commitment to the European Alliance.

  Attlee had been faced with some opposition and criticism from a small but vocal minority within his socialist Labour Party, but these militants had been resoundingly defeated in parliamentary voting. Indeed, it was known that some Labour Members of Parliament were little more than Moscow controlled communists in disguise. The majority of Labour Party MPs were in favour of the European Alliance and had voted accordingly.

  Von Altendorf had wished both Churchill and Attlee good luck in the forthcoming election. Privately he hoped Churchill and his Conservative party would carry the day. ‘I think he will be easier to work with, and his policies are more workable for Britain than those of the Labour Party’ he thought.

  At another, later, private meeting between von Altendorf, von Brauchitsch, Lord Halifax, now British Ambassador to the USA, and Sir Anthony Eden, the British Foreign Secretary was handed a dossier by the Germans, marked ‘Top secret’. Britain’s intelligence service, MI6, were part of Eden’s domain. He was considered by the Germans to be the best placed person to deal with the matter they were now about to disclose.

  Von Brauchitsch did most of the taking. “Sir Anthony, what I have to say to you is highly confidential. All we ask of you is that whatever action the British Government takes or does not take, the source of your information is never disclosed.”

  “You have my word, General.”

  Von Brauchitsch continued. “Germany has devoted considerable time, money and effort over the past few years to build up an extensive intelligence network in the Soviet Union. I think you will agree that the need for this is obvious.”

  “Quite so” Eden confirmed.

  “We have been passing to your MI6 any intelligence we have gathered that we considered to be of interest to Great Britain. However, in this particular case we thought it more appropriate to inform yourself directly of something we have discovered.”

  He paused to make sure he had Eden’s complete attention.

  “One of our agents is well placed within the Soviet Intelligence Bureau. He has established that they are running a group of five high echelon officials within the British intelligence services and your Foreign Office. They have been in place for at least two years but probably much longer. They are closet communists.

  A summary of the findings, together wit
h the names of the spies, is in the dossier you now have.”

  Eden was both shocked and extremely worried by what he was now hearing. There had been a suspicion at some time within MI6 that there was a mole somewhere in the organisation, but they had never been able to find anything concrete. He glanced through the document, spotted the names of the alleged spies and the record of some of the information they had passed to the Soviets. He went pale. The traitors names were Guy Burgess, Anthony Blunt, Kim Philby and Donald MacLean.

  “I see only four names. You said there was a gang of five.”

  “We don’t know the name of the fifth person, only that he exists.”

  This was something that could hurt the Conservative Party’s re-election campaign if it leaked out! The scandal and ensuing bad publicity would be disastrous. It would have to be handled very discretely.