Shadows of War (37 page)

Alston banished all thoughts of giving up. Next time, when Churchill slipped up, he had to be ready to move. Constance was right: that time might not be very far away.

‘By the way, you don’t have to worry about Conrad de Lancey anymore,’ Constance said. ‘I saw Joe Sullivan today and gave him the money. He’ll make sure de Lancey won’t be asking any more difficult questions about Lord Copthorne or me or the Duke of Windsor. We just need to alert Joe when de Lancey is back in London.’

‘Sullivan agreed to do it just like that?’

‘Yes. It wasn’t just for the money. I explained that de Lancey was against the cause.’

‘It’s more than that,’ said Alston. ‘I have heard de Lancey has been asking a lot of awkward questions, and unless we do something very soon he will find some very awkward answers. He’s getting very close.’

‘Well, Joe will put a stop to that.’

‘Good,’ said Alston.

Alston sipped his whisky and smiled. Only a few months ago, the idea of killing de Lancey would have shocked him. But now he knew that it was the right and necessary thing to do if de Lancey were not to blow the whole thing open. In moments of national crisis, like now, he had to have the moral strength to do what was necessary. Anything less was weakness and, unlike Lord Halifax, Alston was not weak. Herr Hitler and Signor Mussolini had not achieved what they had by being weak. Constance had taught him that. Which was remarkable for such a young woman.

‘You have been an enormous help to me, Constance. But someone like you shouldn’t be involved in this kind of thing.’

‘I love helping you, silly!’ She smiled at him. Then the smile disappeared. ‘Besides, I told you I had once killed someone. Before Millie.’

‘I remember you saying you had “taken steps”.’ Alston had been curious at the time what those steps were. He was even more curious now.

‘It was my uncle.’

‘The one you went to live with?’

‘That’s right. After Daddy killed himself, my mother, my sister and I went down to Dulwich to stay with him and my aunt – my aunt is my mother’s sister. After the factory closed we had no money and they did. I knew there was something wrong with Uncle Cedric, but I didn’t know what. On the surface, he seemed very correct and proper, kind even, but he was cruel to my aunt and my mother. He had my aunt under his thumb and he soon had my mother in the same position.

‘Then one night he came into our bedroom. My younger sister Lucy was asleep. He tried to kiss me. So I whacked him. For the next three months there was war between us, he did all he could to turn my mother and my aunt against me. It was horrible, but I refused to give up.’

Constance sighed. ‘But he knew how to really hurt me. One morning I came back to our bedroom and found him with Lucy. She was naked. She was only thirteen! When he saw me, he smiled.’

‘How old were you?’

‘I was fifteen. The next morning he fell under the eight-thirty-nine train to London Bridge. A witness said she thought he was pushed. I told the police he had wanted to kill himself. I was late to school that morning, but no one noticed.’

‘My God,’ said Alston.

‘And the thing of it is,’ said Constance, ‘life was better for me and for my sister, and for my mother and my aunt. Much better.’ She kissed his scarred cheek. He loved the way she seemed to favour that side of his face with her tenderness.

‘I’ve never told anyone that before. I didn’t think anyone would understand. But you understand, don’t you, Henry? Now.’

‘Yes,’ said Alston, stroking her hair. ‘I understand.’

‘It’s either de Lancey or us, Henry. You can’t become Prime Minister if you are in jail for murder, now can you? Come to bed. And tomorrow, who knows? Perhaps the war will be lost and you will have your chance again.’

May 1940

Extracts from Lieutenant Dieter von Hertenberg’s Diary

10 May

It’s started! We crossed the River Sûre on the Luxembourg border at 0530 this morning with the tanks of 1
st
Panzer Division. I am in the armoured command car with General Guderian; I go everywhere he goes. The roads are narrow and winding with steep wooded valleys. The weather is gorgeous; the sky is blue and clear. Tanks stretch out for kilometres
– we are sitting ducks for French aircraft, but fortunately we haven’t seen any. The Luxembourg border guards were overwhelmed by detachments of our infantry and we drove straight through.

Our orders are to push through the Ardennes forest to Luxembourg and Belgium until we reach Sedan. Then we establish a bridgehead over the River Meuse.

11 May

Delayed by minefields and demolition of bridges on the Belgian border with Luxembourg. Brief fighting with French cavalry and Belgian Chasseurs Ardennais around Neufchâteau. Reached the Semois River at Bouillon. It’s not very wide, but the banks form a good defensive line for the French and Belgians. The French are digging in at the town of Bouillon.

I think we have created the largest traffic jam in Europe; apparently the columns of vehicles stretch back all the way across Luxembourg to Germany. Still seen only a couple of French reconnaissance aircraft, which is lucky because we are trapped on these narrow forest roads.

12 May

Whitsun. The French have blown the bridge over the Semois, but it is fordable in places. The French have retreated from Bouillon. Our engineers constructed a new bridge and 1
st
Panzer crossed into the town.

We have suffered enemy bombing for the first time. We set up Corps HQ in the Hôtel Panorama in Bouillon, which does indeed have a wonderful view of the Semois valley. Guderian was standing by a fireplace in the parlour. Hunting trophies lined the walls, including a particularly large wild boar’s head. Suddenly some British bombs landed nearby, one of which hit an ammunition supply column. There was a series of massive explosions: glass shattered, and the trophies flew off the wall. The giant boar missed Guderian by only a few centimetres. He was badly shaken.

But I am impressed with the general. He is a hard taskmaster and drives around the forward units manically. We get very little sleep. But his doctrine of leading from the front works. We have a wireless, a map table and ciphers in the command vehicle
– much better than sitting twenty kilometres to the rear with a row of telephones, which is what all the other generals do. He keeps the tanks moving, which keeps the enemy off balance.

He has just flown off in a Storch to have discussions with Cousin Paul in the rear. Expected back later this evening.

Later... Guderian returned and had some pretty nasty things to say about General Kleist. I decided not to remind him that he was being rude about my relative! Our orders are to cross the Meuse tomorrow afternoon. Kleist has heard from Berlin that the French 7
th
Army with all its armour is moving north into Flanders rather than east to meet us. This is very good news, and just what Theo predicted.

A lot to do to get the orders out for tomorrow’s attack. And although we have crossed the Moselle on exercise, the Meuse will be much more difficult when properly defended. I think I will be seeing real action tomorrow.

13 May

Exhausted. I have scarcely slept at all for the last seventy-two hours. Or is it ninety-six? It’s been a long and dangerous day, but we have a toehold across the Meuse!

The morning was spent frantically trying to produce orders for the assault. I had the idea of using the same orders in our files from the war game on the Moselle we did a couple of weeks ago. Simply added six hours to everything, so the start time of 1000 became 1600.

The French have abandoned the larger part of Sedan which lies on the east bank of the Meuse. The river itself is wide and fast-flowing, and on the west bank are steep green hills with trees, pillboxes, stone towers and gun emplacements. It is like a mountain spitting fire! I thought there was no chance of us ever getting across.

Then our Stukas came, wave after wave of them. They dive down out of the sky, sirens screaming, and drop bombs on the French positions. They kept it up all afternoon. The noise is indescribable, even on our side of the river. It must be hell under it, and it seems to have kept most of the French artillery and machine guns quiet.

At 1600 our infantry paddled across the river in dinghies. They took casualties but have established a couple of bridgeheads on the far bank. Once the orders were issued, Guderian drove back and forth between 1
st
Panzer and 2
nd
Panzer. Then we boarded a dinghy to cross the river, under fire of course. When we got to the other side, the smart-arse commander of the 1
st
Rifle Regiment said, ‘Joyriding is forbidden on the Meuse.’ To be fair to Guderian, he laughed.

At nightfall we returned here to Corps HQ. The engineers are building a pontoon over the river for the tanks to cross tomorrow.

I am so tired. I must get some sleep!

14 May

Fierce battle around Sedan. The bridge has been built and tanks have crossed over. Intelligence suggests that French armour are massing for a counter-attack. Some of the French have turned and run, but some are still fighting, and they have superb positions on the heights looking down on the river. Now we are seeing a lot of French and British aeroplanes. It’s touch and go.

At noon General von Rundstedt, Commander of Army Group A, arrived to take a look. Guderian took him, and me, out on to the centre of our new bridge in the middle of an air raid. The British bombers are not very accurate, but they are aiming at the bridge! Rundstedt tried to take it as calmly as Guderian, but you could see he was rattled. There were bodies in the river, but I didn’t jump in after them this time. These fellows weren’t struggling, they were face down in the water and covered with dark patches of blood.

The noise is extraordinary: artillery gunfire, the rattle of machine guns, the thuds and splashes of bombs, the screams of the Stukas, and the constant rumble of tanks on the move. And yet the sun shines.

15 May

French tanks arrived. Air attacks continue. We are hard pressed.

16 May

We are out in open country! We drove 65 kilometres today. Sedan is secure, as is our beachhead over the Meuse. Without warning, the French gave up their counter-attacks and turned tail. We have no orders for what to do in this situation, so Guderian decided to push west. We reached Montcornet, where we took hundreds of prisoners who had no idea we were anywhere near them.

It’s a wonderful feeling, like a long-distance runner pulling ahead of his competitors in a sprint for the finish line. Like the runner, though, I fear we will become exhausted. Guderian’s philosophy is not to bother about our flanks, but to stay moving and keep the enemy off balance. That seems to be working so far, but I can’t help worrying that when the French finally bring up serious reinforcements our flanks will be in trouble.

You can see why they call him
Schneller Heinz.

17 May

Looks like I have lost a commander! General Kleist flew in first thing this morning, and without even saying ‘good morning’, let alone ‘well done’, he gave Guderian a public bollocking for disobeying his orders. Apparently we should have halted at the Meuse. Guderian calmly asked to be relieved of his command. This took Kleist aback for a moment, but then he told him to hand over to one of his divisional generals and stalked off. I think he recognized me, but didn’t show it. I always used to admire Cousin Paul, but I think his behaviour is outrageous. What is the point of sacking your best general at the moment of a stunning victory?

So we are hanging around at Montcornet until General List arrives with orders from Rundstedt to sort things out.

18 May

Guderian has been reinstated. Technically we have to keep our HQ at Montcornet, but we are permitted ‘reconnaissance in force’, which means we are off again!

2
nd
Panzer reached Saint-Quentin this afternoon. The whole of northern France is opening up before us.

Extract from Lieutenant Dieter von Hertenberg’s Diary

19 May

Crossed the old Somme battlefield. War has changed in the last twenty years, thank God.

Close shave this afternoon. Our command vehicle was in a wood, virtually alone save for a battery of AA guns, when we heard French tanks close by. If they had found us, they would have captured us. Fortunately they moved off.

Regent’s Park, London, 19 May

It was a glorious day in the park. After a brutal winter, flowers were shooting up in the few beds that had remained undisturbed by war preparations. Even the ack-ack guns and the bobbing barrage balloons seemed to be celebrating spring. The iron railings had all been removed, turning the city park into something more akin to a lush rural meadow. There were few people about, just some old codgers snoozing in deckchairs and a group of small boys sailing their boats on the lake, untroubled by German submarines.

The weather matched Alston’s mood, if not that of his compatriots. The news from France was bleak, and getting bleaker by the day. The Germans had cut through the French like a knife through Camembert. The English press were trying to find ways of coming to terms with what was turning into a humiliating defeat. Those in the know – the MPs, the society hostesses, the generals, the gossips of club and dining room – already feared a disaster was in the making. This was worse than 1914. Some thought the French and British generals might be able to pull a Marne victory out of the hat. Realists thought that unlikely.