Jackboot Britain: The Alternate History - Hitler's Victory & The Nazi UK!

by Daniel S. Fletcher

  Heydrich filled his cup from the water jug, taking his time before reassuming the leading role.

  “Gentlemen, first and foremost thank you to Gruppenführer Müller and Sturmbannführer Eichmann of the Gestapo main office, for coming from Berlin to the heart of the largest Empire on Earth… for now.”

  The group thumped the table to a man. Müller nodded unsmilingly. Eichmann cursorily reacted to the General’s mention, before returning to the sheaf of notes he was scanning intently.

  “And the Brigadeführer here, the SS and Police leader from Lublin, with a special task reserved for him here in Britain, thank you Odilo.”

  The fleshy, brutal features of the Austrian that Heydrich gestured towards broke into a smile that looked like it pained him.

  Heydrich resumed. “I will say, with respect to Major General Siewer, cooperation between the army and my office in all civil matters is paramount so as to not disturb the peaceful integration of Great Britain into the Greater German Reich; I will further and assist with all army policy, excepting cases where we feel their decisions and mandate, when not personally directed by the Führer are clearly counter-productive, and of course, when it is a matter of security, concerning action towards undesirables or enemies of the Reich.”

  Siewer assented, looking as though it was the last thing he felt like doing. Heydrich loftily accepted his concurrence, but pressed home the point, to send a message to his subordinates present… and to Himmler.

  “Herr Major General, as adjutant and liaison to Army commander von Brauchitsch, might I just ask for confirmation that Army High Command accepts wholly the wishes of the Führer, Herr Göring and the Party as to our close cooperation, and with regards to my express authority over security matters and prosecution of National Socialist policy in Great Britain?”

  All eyes turned to the Wehrmacht man, whose tone was rather flat in response.

  “Field Marshal von Brauchitsch is perfectly aware from where policy emanates.”

  “Excellent,” Heydrich said, without further ado. “And to the rest of you, commanders of Einsatzgruppen Britain; Dr Six, and the Einsatzgruppe England leaders, welcome.”

  Seven nods. Heydrich had briefed Commander Six, with Müller and Nebe, and each of the other leaders personally in Berlin at the end of May, even prior to the surrender of France and the attack on this isle. They were intently waiting to find out what this particular meeting would entail; up to now, their roles and remits were perfectly clear.

  Heydrich gazed around the room, taking in the tapestries and portraits, the pleasing aesthetics and general ambience, before turning his attention to the Kripo chief of Germany.

  “And Gruppenführer Nebe, good to see you. You are missed in Berlin.”

  Nebe replied with equal courtesy, “And you, Obergruppenführer, and you. Welcome to England.”

  Eichmann and Schellenberg watched him for a sign of weakness, but Nebe, a police commissioner even before the Nazi takeover of power, was far too slippery to show his hand. A perfect façade of a smile played over his face, beneath the enormous nose that could have been a death sentence for one of lower prestige in Nazi Germany.

  However, perhaps his star was on the wane. Heydrich, chief of the Reich Security Office to which Kripo was part of – department V – had appointed Nebe commander of Einsatzgruppe Manchester; an obvious snub, with the subordinately ranked SS-Brigadeführer Franz Six of the SD in overall operational command in Britain, and head of the more prestigious London gruppe.

  With Nebe in the north of England, Bernhard Wehner was deputising as Acting Chief of Kripo, RSHA Dept. V, and Friedrich Wilhelm Lüdtke was the Acting Commissioner of Kripo Berlin.

  On top of his Action Group leadership Nebe was left with a transparent sop; Deputy-Commander of SiPo and SD in Britain of the Reichsprotektor and Police Leader in the Northern Zone – a meaningless title, threefold, and deliberately so; it was Dr Six who officially commanded the Einsatzgruppen GB, the absent Oberführer Schöngarth had been drafted from Poland as Heydrich’s SD Chief of the Northern Zone, and Nebe was an SS-Lieutenant General and Kripo police chief already who outranked both. There were no SS men superior in either rank, position or executive police power than Nebe in the entire country, save for the Blond Beast himself.

  Heydrich smiled to himself, as Nebe smoothly parried his taunt. You are a cool one, Arthur. Always were. Even now your hands are dirty and your pride is hurt.

  The Reichsprotektor continued, playing his trump card, speaking with greater speed and force. His tone made abundantly clear that he was not to be interrupted.

  “In addition to the mandate the Führer gave the Reichsführer-SS as a broad scope as to the implementation and direction of his aims here in Great Britain and territories, I, in my role as the Minister Responsible for the Reich Central Agency For Jewish Emigration, have been given an authorisation from Reichsmarschall Göring in the form of this document which you will see in your folders; if you will open the file…”

  Eichmann noticeably smirked, as did Müller. Schellenberg glanced at Himmler, his suspicions that the Reichsführer was unaware of such a document confirmed by the steely glint in Himmler’s eyes, which were locked on Heydrich resolutely.

  Heydrich retrieved his own copy of the file. “I hereby charge you, Obergruppenführer Reinhard Heydrich, SS-Reich Security Chief, Head of the SiPo and SD, and so on, and so on, and in your concurrent capacity as Minister Responsible for Jewish Emigration et cetera, et cetera, with all necessary executive authority to find, dispel and remove all acting and potentially dangerous or unsuitable elements within Germany, Great Britain and territories; the necessary police organisations of your office being the determining agency, reporting…”

  Heydrich barely suppressed a grin at this point; the laughter in his voice was unmistakeable.

  “… Directly to myself and to the Führer on such matters with no impedance from, and with the full cooperation of, all other military and executive branches of the Reich… henceforth assuming responsibility for all matters of ‘internal political security’ within the National Socialist Empire, not merely for matters of ‘police security’ and with regards to the total subjugation of hostile elements, seizing and combating organisations and elements working against Germany, and working towards a Final Solution to the Jewish Question, and so on, and so on… signed Hermann Göring, Reichsmarschall of the Greater German Reich, Prime Minister of Prussia, President of the Reichstag and so on, and so on, to Chief of Security Police and SD, Heydrich, Reichsprotektor, President of INTERPOL, et cetera, et cetera…”

  He looked up, briefly, unable to resist seeing the effect it had on the men present, they being some of the most powerful men in Europe. The sight overjoyed him.

  ~

  Neither Jack, Alan, William nor Mary moved. The two fascists exchanged an oddly joyful look that exhibited the pretence of exasperation, and they began to flex their newfound social weight.

  “Papers,” the smaller man glared; a distinctly Jewish looking weasel of a man.

  The group paused. None had brought their identification, despite the strict illegality to the Germans of such a move, purely in the event that this happened, in order to plead ignorance. But while they would have been forced to face arrest at the hands of Wehrmacht or – God help them – SS, and more pertinently SD or Gestapo, they certainly couldn’t face having their plans derailed by a pair of Englishmen.

  Even two English scum wielding coshes, in the employ of the Germans.

  “Papers,” the weasel demanded again, more forcefully.

  “Why, do you need a smoke, Jakob?” William sneered.

  “Oh, a funny bugger are we?” The rat-like fascist leered at his larger, somewhat more intimidating friend. “This one’s a funny bugger, isn’t ’e.”

  “Since when do we have to do what you bastards say?” Alan demanded.

  Jack grinned. “Yeah, you aint ever had any say in London, guv’nor. Us three were here when your lot got your heads kicked
in up the East End.”

  “Yeah,” William joined in, “… and when my Geordie friend here says ‘you bastards’, I should point out that he means fascists, not yids.”

  They all roared with laughter, despite amusement being the last thing they felt. There were Wehrmacht and SS men stood idly smoking, or alternately, patrolling across the road at the hotel. Things were going badly awry for the group.

  “Well,” rat-face began, slowly, enjoying himself. “I don’t know about yids, as it should be obvious neither of us are dirty kikes. You’ll find that things are changing around here… what with the new Viceroy of ’itler being an SS and police general and all. BUF men of a certain standing have been asked to deputise as a sort of auxiliary peace-keeping security force, until things settle. So with that being said–”

  He never finished his sentence. Jack feinted, pretending to crouch before head-butting the fascist would-be copper, his hard skull driving upwards and through the brittle man’s chin with all the weight and force that Jack possessed. He was unconscious before the back of his head hit the ground, blood leaking out of it onto the pavement. Alan immediately leapt in, planting a big left hook on the larger man’s chin, almost spinning him. A second punch that glanced clumsily off his boulder of a head was supplemented by William, who sprang in to stamp down hard on the disorientated fascist’s kneecap, sending him twisting to the ground. Alan kicked, and then stomped the stricken giant’s head for good measure, sending it thudding into the concrete with a horrible shudder of impact.

  The whole attack lasted no longer than ten seconds.

  They all heard a great shout from across the street in German, and instantly fled into the park. Two SS men with the SD sleeve diamond sprinted across Park Lane, with the shouts of Wehrmacht laughter ringing out behind them.

  “Bayswater Road,” Alan shouted, in a great pant. “Get to the Tube.”

  The only German they could now hear behind them were guttural, threatening yells.

  Fleeing across the grass past the first row of yellowing trees, Mary began to sprint out into the open expanse of grass, westwards into the heart of the park.

  “Mary!” William yelled in high panic.

  Thankfully the cry registered even in flight, and with the nimble feet of a girl whose childhood was spent outdoors, Mary turned on her heel and darted back into the tree-lined route along which they sprinted northwards towards Speaker’s Corner. There was no noise behind them, but from the stares of the park stragglers they passed, all were sure that the chase was still ongoing.

  They cut northwest, navigating the northeast park lanes at Cumberland Gate and to their relief, found themselves on the main road which was near-empty, and free of German patrols. Disregarding their safety, they unhesitatingly tore across the lanes without checking for traffic, and having made it across to the cobbled pavements north, they turned east, passing the Marble Arch junction at the northeast corner of the park. The tube station was in sight.

  A warning shout in German rang out behind them, guttural and harsh.

  “Hurry,” Alan urged, and they sprinted across, bitterly regretting their tobacco habits.

  They all rounded the corner and in to the station, slipping on the shiny floor as they cut in from the street, and hurled themselves down the stairs three at a time, William falling at the bottom. There was a train at the platform heading eastwards – three stops to Tottenham Court Road, from whence they could walk – its grimy white side had opened its doors, and confused passengers were staring out.

  Jack and Alan reached the train with a final burst of energy, and almost fell through its doors in relief. But Mary stopped at the door, in horror.

  “William,” she screamed.

  The young Scot had badly twisted his ankle in the fall, and was limping along painfully towards the open doors.

  Frantically, Mary ran back to her lover, and dragged him along furiously. The bemused conductor, for whom people running to catch trains was no uncommon sight, had dismissed both the sight of Jack and Alan tearing across the platform, and the spectacle of the young man’s fall, but the shrill Latin scream of Mary had been too much for him. It was too panicked and emotional to be related to the train, which in any case would be followed in ten minutes by another. The old conductor didn’t know why she screamed, but his curiosity was tempered as he knew that he didn’t want to know.

  His whistle blew, and the doors began to close.

  ~

  Heydrich gazed around a room of men who were still stunned by his far-reaching proclamations regarding the further power bestowed on him, this time by Hermann Göring. And none were more amazed than the putative master of the SS himself, in Reichsführer Himmler.

  “Gentlemen,” he said gruffly, minimising the nasal qualities of his high voice. “This is the directive, and that which the Reichsführer-SS has himself discussed with our Führer and briefly explained to you, is clear – in Germany itself, we will soon began major resettlement operations, and at present, here in England and the British Isles… which are to be cleared of undesirable elements in order to procure peace in a German Europe, and for the British Empire to become our allies and partners in the great racial struggle of our people against ideological and racial enemies in the East, and elsewhere.”

  His eyes bored into the men seated on either side of the great table. The silence was deafening.

  “This is to be achieved by force if necessary – it likely will be – and with all the experience our Gestapo and SD have earned within Germany itself, for that to be turned on England in order to set the course for a New European Order in the world.”

  The ensuing silence was broken by Eichmann and Müller.

  “Jawohl, Reichsprotektor!”

  All others apart from Himmler and the Austrian followed suit, banging the table in support. The Reichsführer-SS took the liberty of interjecting, anxious to rein Heydrich in and assert his own supreme SS authority.

  “Very well said, Herr Obergruppenführer. As to the removal of those threats, you have all done a fine job thus far, a fine job thus far. Herr Schellenberg has provided exceptionally clear details in the books that show how to appropriately deal with all manner of issues pertaining to gaining control over Great Britain. They are quite thorough and include lists of prominent Jews and freemasons, all masonic lodges and those within the nobility who are involved in that criminal organisation, as well as fugitives from Germany…”

  Heydrich himself interjected, as the little speech of Himmler’s paused momentarily.

  “Indeed, Reichsführer, perhaps the finest work of the SD thus far; it will provide all necessary and relevant information. Masonic lodges to be crushed as and where they crop up in their new form, this dangerous Hydra. Like Vishnu, one hundred arms and limbs to this beast. I want them smashed, defiled, ransacked and their members hauled in for Gestapo questioning and subsequent execution, regardless of rank!” Heydrich’s voice rose to a high-pitched cry of excitement, and he rose to his feet, aware of his voice, and quickly composing himself. “They will be hung publicly, with piano wire like cattle, as something of a deterrent and a just punishment.”

  Heydrich gazed at them each in turn.

  “And with the meeting that myself, the Reichsführer and Herr Göring are to have tomorrow, it is paramount that each Einsatzgruppe speeds up the departure of many enemies of National Socialism that we would first like to acquaint with Gestapo hospitality, or SS bullets.”

  Again, the Einsatzgruppe commanders nodded their assent. Heydrich paced, calmly.

  “Moving on; beyond freemasons and prominent Jews – the two are often the same – we have listed the believed whereabouts of influential financiers, and while I doubt we’ll find Mayor Rothschild or his close family on this side of the world, it should be expressed to the men of our action groups – as in Poland – any key figures who have or had any control over economy or string-pulling on Downing Street must be captured and hung from meat-hooks as a matter of the most urgent prio
rity of Germany.”

  Himmler nodded gravely from his seat.

  “Absolute top priority, yes… absolute top priority… prominent Jews and communist party members, freemasons and influential financiers.”

  “There are also subversive writers and so-called scientists, political thinkers and others of some prominence; Jew and human alike…”

  Heydrich’s voice trailed, and some sycophantic laughter pealed out from his obedient acolytes.

  “… and while unfortunately Sigmund Freud is no longer in the land of the living, many more remain here who it could be said, should not be. I should like to add that, if Eric Blair, better known as George Orwell, or Aldous Huxley be discovered in England, that they be held free of special interrogation. I would like to deal with them myself.”

  He turned to Dr Six. “No sign, I assume?”

  The Einsatzgruppen Britain commander shook his bald head gravely.

  “There is no word or sign of either Orwell or Huxley, Herr Reichsprotektor.”

  Himmler’s adjutant, Waffen-SS captain Joachim Peiper enquired of Heydrich; “Are there any new additions to the list, Herr Obergruppenführer, or Herr Schellenberg?”

  “No, on the contrary the list was significantly shortened at the highest levels of government,” Heydrich quickly answered, lowering himself back into his seat. “Some key ministers smoothened the process of the move towards a new order, and the overthrow of the old. Thus, I spared them.”

  Himmler interjected; quite unnecessarily, Schellenberg thought.

  “Captain Peiper here will liaise between myself and the Obergruppenführer, and through him I will keep abreast of your actions, gentlemen, for my reports to the Führer. As Reichsführer-SS I am here on the Führer’s orders to ensure these visions of Saxon order come to fruition. Reich Security Chief Heydrich is tasked with accomplishing the racial and political cleansing of undesirable elements, and it is vital that such work is successful.”