that whatever is said here stays here. All of us are bound by the Official Secrets Act.” He paused again.
“We have failed to keep Germany in check diplomatically, and our military response has been sluggish, defensive, and ineffective. To make things worse, Prime Minister Chamberlain has effectively refused to consider military catastrophe as a possibility. Many of us at the War Office think he is still hoping that there can be some kind of negotiated settlement, and the war can be ended without too much bloodshed. I’m afraid it’s the curse of being perpetually optimistic.” He paused again for effect.
“Unsubstantiated faith in the future is a wonderful trait in school teachers, but it’s a disastrous one in wartime prime ministers. There are many of us who believe that when they are ready, the Germans will go on the offensive. And, as more than a few of us in the army and elsewhere believe, we are now almost preordained to suffer a serious calamity. From that heretical perspective, which is both our worst-case and most likely scenario, no matter whether we sue for peace or not, sooner or later, we’ll find ourselves fighting for our lives again. Like many of you, I know the Germans and Corporal Hitler far too well, and neither Hitler nor the Germans intend to let us off easily. They’ll be at our throats again whether we sign a peace treaty or not.”
There was an uneasy silence and more shifting of hard wooden chairs around the table.
“First off, neither I nor the people I work with have any intention of acting overtly or covertly to influence Britain’s political outcomes over the foreseeable future. I hope to put your mind at rest on that account. We understand that we are here to protect democracy, not overthrow it or supplant it. However, we do have to be prepared to react to the worst possible scenario, and our worst possible scenario is a decisive German victory on the continent. And that, for reasons of wishful political thinking, is currently viewed as an heretical and unthinkable possibility.”
Harris quickly scanned the room, looking each man at the table in the eye. “I hope, gentlemen, that you will agree with me that it’s our job to think through the current difficulties as we see them, and then quietly and unobtrusively insert a degree of common sense into the political process. And if we can’t do that – and I might add, we have been entirely unsuccessful in doing that over the last five years – then we have to be ready with an alternative plan when all the unworkable alternatives have come crashing down on us.” Harris’s speech slowed and he began to sound somewhat uncomfortable. “Secondly, although I’m in uniform, I’m not addressing you as soldiers. I see you gentlemen as the first of a new style of fighter. If you agree to fight with us, you will be the first of a new kind of shadow army. It will be the beginning of a civilian resistance unlike anything the world has seen before.”
He paused again and stared out the window.
“So what exactly are you coming to here, colonel?” The impatient question came from Rory Ferrall, the Canadian with the eye patch and missing fingers. He looked irritable, and to reinforce his point, he looked at his watch. Two other men at the table muttered agreement.
Harris fixed the Canadian with a penetrating stare. “Yes, well, that’s precisely where we are going, Chief Superintendent Ferrall. If we’re driven off the continent, we fully intend to go back some day. With, of course, the help of the Dominions: nations like yours, Australia, South Africa, New Zealand, and, of course, Empire troops – and I don’t know how, but with any luck, we have to get the Americans onto our side as well. But I fear that’s a long way down the road. Who knows? This could take decades. I personally agree with Churchill’s private assessment of the Nazis: they’re a scourge and it may take the world’s free nations generations to defeat them. So let me come to the point. If that’s the case, we have to start preparing now for a war that could last decades. If we get run off the continent, we intend to set up a network of behind-the-lines saboteurs: men and women who will wage guerrilla war, assassinate key leaders, harass the enemy, and provide us with accurate intelligence from which to base future operations.”
A ruddy-cheeked gentleman with a Scottish accent steepled his hands and spoke before Harris could continue. “So, colonel, I just want to be clear. Have you brought us here to organize some kind of resistance for you? A resistance for which there isn’t a legitimate or a politically sanctioned need; or are we somehow to be involved in exerting this political influence you speak of?”
“I don’t want you to do anything just yet,” Harris said. “What I am asking of you is to start thinking about what we might do when we lose on the continent. Please bear with me. Each one of you has been brought here after a very careful selection and vetting process. Two of you had direct experience in the last war in military intelligence operations in Germany. Three of you have been selected for your demonstrated organizational skills, and two for your knowledge of the German security services. All of you have been carefully vetted for your common sense, trust, and loyalty. Despite such qualifications, we haven’t been authorized any money, people, or equipment to prepare for this kind of eventuality. Given what I’ve just said, that’s not surprising. But that should not stop us from thinking about how we shall proceed, if and when we find ourselves with our backs to the wall.”
Harris clasped his hands behind his back. “So, yes, I’m not asking anything of you just now, except for you to think about how we are going to do this. I’d like you to stay right where you are. Remain in your jobs until such time as we need you. And we will be contacting you, trust me, on that score. But for some of you, we need your help to convince a number of those in key decision-making positions that we should be planning actively for the desperate situation we’re going to find ourselves in. And, yes, for all of you, I’m seeking your support in creating a resistance to a possible Nazi occupation of Europe.”
* * *
“REINHOLD, YOU MUST ADMIT that the Führer is even more impressive in person than he is on the radio or when you see him on the movie reels,” said Oberst Scheidler, sipping enthusiastically at his glass of sekt. Oberst Scheidler, of the Schutzpolizei, was one of Vienna’s three deputy police chiefs and an influential man who was clearly going to continue to rise in both the Nazi Party and the Reich’s police ranks. “I had the impression tonight that we were witnessing history being made: the Führer giving a speech that was being broadcast to all Germans, describing for us his vision of the future. Mark my words, this is a man who holds destiny in his hands.”
Major der Schutzpolizei Reinhold Neumann nodded and smiled, but unlike Scheidler and the other senior officers at Vienna’s Imperial Hotel, Reinhold Neumann hadn’t been impressed by the Führer and his speech. And for that matter, he wasn’t much impressed by his police Oberst either. He had always thought of Scheidler as being somewhat stupid. And worse, Scheidler was often naively obsequious around his superiors. Neumann was well aware that Scheidler wouldn’t have made it to the rank of Oberst if he wasn’t a Nazi. But since the Anschluss – the union of Austria and Germany – his rise had been meteoric. Aside from his demonstrated skill in flattering the right people, Scheidler was an unremarkable policeman, an indifferent plodder who barely got the job done; there was no real spark that distinguished him from other senior officers. But Scheidler had one talent, and that was an unerring ability to get close to and stay close to the right superior. So, even though Scheidler might be a plodder, Reinhold Neumann was shrewd enough to appreciate that Scheidler’s single strength was the one he needed to exploit and cultivate in himself if he were to rise.
“I think you’re right, Herr Oberst,” Neumann said, smiling.
In truth, Neumann thought the Führer was much more impressive on the radio than in person, although he certainly wasn’t going to admit it here. Scheidler would never understand. The Führer was wooden, his entire performance predictable. Neumann had heard it all before: the themes of sacrifice and hardship and the inevitable furious crescendo aimed at Germany’s enemies. It wasn’t that Neumann disagreed with what Hitler said; he was impatient with the Führer’s
