“Ah… let me get you a pint. As an apology for before?”
Bill nodded to him. “Thanks. Much appreciated.”
Alan bought him a beer, placing it down on the wooden table in front of him with good grace. “Very decent of you,” Bill said quietly, without moving. Alan watched him uncertainly for a moment, before turning to take his own pints to the saloon room. As the door swung shut on the Geordie’s disappearing back, Bill finally reached forwards and slowly brought the glass up to his cracked lips.
Alan set the glasses down at their table.
“Well, I reckon we’ve got time for just the one or two…” he scratched his chin.
“Let’s meet back here tonight when they’ve reopened,” Jack said, assuredly. “We need to properly plan, after all.”
“Yeah, yeah. Plan. And, well…”
“What?”
“It might be nice to have a drink or two. Just enough to get merry. I mean… who knows when we next will, eh?”
His tone was breezy, and they all reacted with similarly breezy, fleeting agreements. Smiles masked fear.
~
Seating back at the great table, Heydrich once more led off.
“It seems we shall continue without the Reichsführer-SS present, which should pose no problem because with no disrespect intended towards the Reichsführer of the SS…” Heydrich cleared his throat noisily, “… his cultural tasks involve the study and documentation of historically sacred German blood and its influence in England, mysticism and of Teutonic tradition”
There was a silence, which suited Heydrich fine.
“Our tasks are different. For the record; my idea of the cultural blending of England and Germany is the combination of the two great historical nations of Saxon blood, with our advances in the arts, in science, music, philosophy, poetry and literature – decadent Jewish materials excepted; in music and philosophy, likewise. Psychology especially – the pain of any Jewish psychologist of note or those included in our special search lists G.B is to be immeasurable even by Gestapo standards.”
“Here, here,” Müller snarled, in a low, deep growl. “The Jewish intelligentsia should be packed into a mine and blown sky high.”
“Thank you, Gruppenführer Müller,” Heydrich said patiently.
He rose to his feet.
“Nothing is to stand in the way of this union. We are the great nations and the German-British World Reich will be an age of glory never surpassed in history, of German and English western culture and Saxon blood triumphant.”
The SS men all banged the table in strong support.
“Herr Reichsprotektor,” Siewer began, “what were you saying regarding the army’s delegation of legal enforcement tasks to the SS?”
“Ah, specifics. Good. The Field Marshal and I spoke on the phone about this, briefly. Negro music and anything decadent, be it Jewish or black, American or from London or Leeds or Liverpool, is categorically outlawed; punishable by severity equivalent to that in the Reich.”
The Einsatzgruppe leaders made notes, and then looked up expectantly.
“Narcotics… including but not limited to opiates – despite unofficial policy even amongst, alas, members of the Party Elite…”
Heydrich’s tone was delicate, but every officer present guffawed, especially Müller. Army Chief adjutant Siewer laughed openly, too, slightly warming to Heydrich. With his impromptu rise from captain (retired) to first Field Marshal, and then Reichsmarschall – Generalissimo – and command of the Air Force, the supremely confident, enormously ruthless and falsely convivial Göring was not popular amongst the Army High Command at Oberkommando des Heeres.
Heydrich smiled. “Yes… opiates shall be illegal and possession in any quantities punishable by internment in the Konzentrationslagers the Reichsführer and I are installing here, under the direction of our good friend the Brigadeführer,” he said, nodding to the Austrian, who again twisted his face into something that vaguely resembled a polite smile.
“While hardly a problem worth tackling in the Reich itself,” Britain’s viceroy declared, a sudden melodrama allowing the high pitched edge to his voice, “the so-called ‘Youth Assassin’ of cannabis is rather more prevalent here, much as it is in America… and it will be held in the same legal category as opiates, and cocaine and the stimulants.”
“And if they are Jews, fucking kill them on the spot,” Müller grunted. “Or drag them in for special interrogation.”
“Thank you for the reminder, Gruppenführer Müller,” Heydrich said, patiently. “Yes, any Jews found in possessions large enough to be classified as for distributary purposes… or simply, in possession, is to be summarily executed in public as a deterrent – no KZ, just SiPo interrogation and then, it’s your call; hand them over to an army firing squad or publicly hang them yourselves at the discretion of the SD squad commander in question. Dr Six, if this is to occur in London which is by far the largest population centre and the expected hub of decadence; I would like you to handle such an affair personally.”
“Understood, Herr Reichsprotektor…” Six nodded, the response Heydrich expeccted from his unctuous underling.
“Good,” Heydrich nodded. “This applies to all present and those you delegate squads’ commands to. Cannabis, and any psychoactive narcotic, be it mescaline from the peyote cactus, hallucinogenic fungi, all of it; Napoleon banned it, and so do I. Europe and our peoples will not permit the wholesale descent to lunatic degeneracy; these so-called free-thinking liberal sodomites and Jew-poisoned, pornographic-minded Bacchians…”
Nebe caught Müller’s eye across the gleaming table with deliberate, lingering insolence. Heydrich was notorious for alcohol-fuelled orgies, and wild nights out that often resulted in violence, depravity and barbaric retribution arranged for any and all who happened to fatefully cross him. After a long career as a policeman that predated the Nazi rise to power, the grey-haired, hook-nosed Nebe knew more than most the truth regarding such substances and alcohol, and which intoxicant it was that was more likely to render its users amenable to aggression and immoral behaviour, let alone ‘degeneracy’ and ‘decadence.’ And, for that matter, he knew all-too-well what Heydrich was like, regardless of what chemical compounds were in his system. Nebe doubted that use of any drug, even the degenerate Bacchian ones, would be enough to purge the man’s relentless cruelty.
Müller, himself a policeman prior to Gestapo duties, returned the gaze with an amused, knowing malice. Nebe smiled genially, the skin bunching above his huge, hooked nose, and he turned back to face their chief.
“As to the legal framework,” Heydrich continued, enjoying himself, “happily the Führer’s military command i.e. the army will oversee the necessary legislation being passed – at least until the new government is formally approved, and arrangements are made with Berlin, i.e. the Führer and the Reichsmarschall. They will also accommodate our ‘Mahatma Propagandhi’, Reichsminister Goebbels…”
There was sniggering again. Many at the table feared and loathed Heydrich like the Black Death, and avoided him as they would a leper; his Machiavellian, predatory nature was well-known and whispered of. Today, though, held in his relative favour as he basked in new and awesome authority, they were all slowly warming to him. That, and the exquisite buffet, of course. Sometimes, it paid to be in such company.
The humour helped mask the ruthlessness of his naked ambition.
Heydrich paused, noting the body language and reactions of the SS commanders, and with the supreme confidence of an unchallenged leader, broke from his speech. A leisurely pause for thought, and the swollen security chief resumed speaking.
“Yes, the good Doctor… and the necessary campaign of public enlightenment on this and other such matters. They will offer the honeyed and veiled words alike, providing the paperwork, and the Reich Security Office will, as ever, serve as the iron fist behind policy. As we are the dustbin of the Reich, we must become the cleansing agent and dustbin of England, the machine into which enemies w
ill be thrown and come out mincemeat. Clear?”
“Clear, Reichsprotektor,” several of the men returned. The ones who remained silent were glared at by Müller, each in turn. The Austrian Brigadier held the Gestapo department chief’s gaze, and neither looked away for some seconds before Müller grinned. The silent, animalistic challenge was subtle, but Heydrich wryly noted the exchange.
“Hopefully the English don’t persist in the folly of opposing the anti-Jewish measures. On a similar note; for tactical reasons, while escalating these important tasks, we should not be too overt or public at all times so as to not provoke our natural allies the English into revolt as opposed to alliance, particularly in the event of a prosecution of a final showdown with international Jewry and Judeo-Bolsheviks in the east.”
Joachim Peiper, who had remained present as Himmler’s liaison, broke in.
“Regardless of balance, if I may Herr Reichsprotektor, once undesirables are eliminated their families and friends will be stirred up to a hatred of Germany, if it doesn’t already exist–”
“We will not expect to be popular among the populace if our actions are overtly extreme and public in all matters, so I would expect a certain amount of discernment and balance, in light of England’s place alongside Germany in the new order we are setting in the world…” Heydrich’s response was delivered fast and smooth, and he rose to pace the room, intoxicated by his dictatorial power. “No wanton bloodletting; we must let the economy thrive, the populace come to terms with the new order and the establishment of a certain amount of trust as we have found in willing elements in France; let only Jewish, masonic or otherwise overwhelmingly subversive elements that are to be victim of SS justice become public spectacle, the rest dealt with quietly behind closed doors or in the extra-legal framework of the concentration camps. This is how things will be.”
Beats of silence. The Reichsprotektor continued.
“One final note on this, however; all two thousand plus entries remaining in the Sonderfahndungsliste Great Britain, those not personally exonerated by myself such as Halifax, are to be treated with extreme prejudice, and sent the way of the Brigadeführer’s camps if not executed in our care… and if resistance is met and arrest made difficult, arbitrary execution is permitted – made as painful for the undesirable as and where is possible.”
“Including women, Herr Oberruppenführer?” Peiper asked, frowning.
Heydrich glared at him. “Regarding the latter point, at the discretion of the arresting agents and their command. I don’t see any overwhelming evidence that Virginia Woolf and her ilk should be… relentlessly tortured… but if they meet their end during arrest or en route to detention facilities, I’m sure that neither the Führer will consider anything untoward about the affair, nor will the KZ commandants or guards complain about having one or several less mouths to feed and bunks to watch.”
Dr Rudolf Lange suddenly spoke, his deep voice as coarse and brutal as Müller’s, belying his education and erudite nature.
“Regardless of gender, extreme prejudice to Jews and subversives. That is the brief, Herr Haupsturmführer Peiper. We must defeat the better angels of our nature.”
Heydrich nodded approvingly at his protégé. “Indeed. Dr Six and Dr Lange here are more than aware of this following our meetings in Berlin, but for those not present at Prinz-Albrecht Strasse, allow me to explain…”
He rose, and began circling the table. “We will encounter many different types of our Saxon brother and enemy alike here in Great Britain. Firstly, the racial equal who is favourably disposed towards National Socialism and the Reich; as is happening with British soldiers and re-education, this is to create our true brotherhood and establish the Thousand Year Reich. Secondly, the racial equal who is not favourably disposed towards we Germans or the Party and our policies; these are to be quietly eliminated, firstly – if non-violent and uninvolved in partisan action, by internment and re-education, or if otherwise, their violence will meet with a violent end via the SS.”
“Just to clarify Herr Reichsprotektor, severity to be determined on a case-by-case basis, following interrogation as and when is possible?” Dr Six asked.
“Yes.”
“Can you explain, Herr Reichsprotektor?” Schellenberg asked.
Heydrich looked at him, deeply irritated.
“… Yes, Walther. Notable cases, Dr Six is to personally deal with and decide upon; non-significant arrests are purely security police prerogative; cases constituting a Threat To The Reich or of otherwise of major significance is my remit, to be passed on with immediate effect… moving on… Thirdly, with racial inferiors who have infected this island the same as they nested like vipers in our country, the parasitic Jew or otherwise racial untermensch who are favourably disposed towards the German Reich…”
He cast a disdainful look at the table, and Müller provided him the reaction he was looking for in the form of a disgusted, disbelieving snort. Eichmann, too, paused from studying the varied Einsatzgruppe reports to look suitably bemused.
“…These… people… I use the term loosely… once registered, and scanned for infractions, are to be used as an auxiliary civil and security sub-service under our watchful eye for the maintenance of stability, much like the racially equal Anglo-Saxon British fascists… assuming they are not guilty of any overt crimes for which we can pass them over to the camp system, or special interrogation.
Heydrich returned to his seat, and for the first time while in an important meeting, lit a cigarette. Eichmann and Schellenberg stared at their chief, in something approaching shock. The Reichsprotektor inhaled deeply with pleasure, releasing rings of smoke, and letting the rest out in smaller whisps.
When he spoke, it was with his trademark urgency and forcefulness.
“We can iron out the wrinkles of this issue in later years, when the burgeoning New Order has been established in all German and British territories from the Americas to Africa to the Far East. This period is for the establishment of a new system in England that is amenable to the Reich, which will further the aims and goals of our influence in the continents which we cannot occupy by force. The Führer,” he said, letting his evocation sink in, “… explicitly stated to myself and… to me, at the Berghof, that this is the most pressing issue currently facing the Greater Reich. Understood?”
Murmurs of assent.
“Fourth, and last, the racial inferior who looks upon the German Reich as the rat-catcher of European culture that it is, are unfavourably disposed towards us and the elimination of such people is to be the most public and severe meting out of justice seen here in Great Britain as with everywhere else. No mercy, no secrecy, destroy racial enemies with maximal vengeance who are also actively working against the interests of the Reich, from sabotage to resistance, armed or otherwise, through media and black propaganda, economy, whatever it may be. Destroy all cancer without mercy.”
“Understood, Herr Reichsprotektor,” they cried in unison.
“Our treatment of these four types will be written into lore. In some parts of the world, perhaps in history books – depending who writes them – a certain amount of opprobrium may be attached to our names and our work, but of course, such hypocrisy fails under measured scrutiny. From Britain’s Empire builders such as Cecil Rhodes, and the murderous viceroys who bled downtrodden colonies of their resources, to our own Kaiser’s imperial policies in Africa, to the French Revolution and beyond; harsh measures of oppression have often been used to further and strengthen the civilisation of the race as a whole. It is social science. Revolutionary times call for revolutionary actions, and in time, the harsh nature is forgotten for the results they bring. The ends justify the means. Objectively, there can be no such censure attributed to our work, and the coming generations will vindicate us wholly.”
Silence. Heydrich smiled his full-lipped predator’s smile.
“Gentlemen, soon we will enjoy the culture, sophistication and charm of this great city without its detritus. A Jew-free
London with no racial or political undesirables, can you imagine? There is a true appreciation of culture here; I will greatly enjoy travelling to the finest concertos and operas that the married trio of London, Paris and Berlin have to offer; one of the TRUE achievements of our cause. A Greater German Reich into which Jew-free London, Paris and Berlin are incorporated. And that will be our victory, the total victory of the SS, and of Germany, and of the Thousand Year Reich.”
He rose to his feet, and this time, every other officer present leapt to theirs. Fourteen right arms shot outwards.
“Heil Hitler!” Heydrich shouted, his long, pale face suddenly flushed.
“Heil Hitler!”
The men trailed towards the door. Heydrich watched them go, armed with his orders, and he thrilled to imagine the role in the world’s new order that he now filled. It enraptured him. Logic quickly replaced his daydream, and almost as an afterthought, Heydrich yelled at the receding figures of the SS command, his high-pitched nasal tone returning, stopping them dead in their tracks.
“Memorise any notes you have taken during this meeting, and then before you sleep tonight, make sure they have been destroyed.”
10pm. It was unlike operations in Germany, striking at the onset of dawn, or in the blackness of night, enveloped by the darkness of the early hours. The English winter evening was no less dark, but had been chosen.
Cigarette tips glowed in the back of the military trucks; ten men in each. They wore SS field gear, blank patch and SD sleeve diamond in place, submachine guns at their feet. Several inspected their pistols. All were more than acquainted with such raids; some had participated in the great burning raids of Poland, leaving whole villages and towns in flames and shooting the swinish peasantry as and when they decided. The grey platoon was an Einsatzkommando; the prospect of wholesale murder did not appal its men.
Jackboot Britain: The Alternate History - Hitler's Victory & The Nazi UK! Page 38