Feel the Bearn - A Timeline of France's Only Carrier in WWII and Beyond

[Seafort]

"Undoubtedly I was as surprised as anyone when they brought him out," wrote Robert Page Arnot in a letter to Anna Louise Strong that was published in the months following her disappearance in what was mainland China. "To think that old Willie Gallacher was on the run like Lenin was a bit preposterous, but there we were. These are frightening times, with Churchill arresting our comrades in the night like the Gestapo. But Jack was there. And so was Reuben. Willie looked to be quite the worse for wear, but his speech was vigorous." Jack Dash echoed this sentiment in an unmailed letter to Wal Hallington following the latter's arrest. "He had a force about him that I had not seen before. Perhaps his brush with death had changed him, but he spoke with great certitude that the government of Winston Churchill was about to come to an end. And with the atrocities that the Prime Minister had committed, the fall of the capitalistic system itself." Phil Piratin also gave Gallacher strong praise in a letter to an unnamed admirer, "In these unprecedented times it was refreshing to be once more among a society of friends." Yet he did have his misgivings. "But still I wonder, how this will be accomplished? How, when the lot of us are being hunted down relentlessly? It seems implausible. And Gallacher's assistant, this Redgrave, never have I met a man more cold in my life."

Excerpt from Twilight Britain: 1945 - 1956, (2007) by David Kynaston

 

[Seafort]

June 18, 1945
5:15AM EST
London

Darkness. Unending. And then light. Images swirling around him. Flashes of memories...or of things to come he wondered. He looked about in a cacophony of visual battery. Propeller driven planes....no...these were of the new jet variant. Two battleships, yes they were of the King George V class. They were being dismantled. Or were they? They were being...altered. And a man, overseeing it all, his face in shadow. Looming over all. Waiting.

Winston Churchill gasped, suddenly finding himself on his side next to his desk. His chest hurt. His head was throbbing.

Major-General Colin Gubbins stood up, jerking opening the door. "Get medical attention here immediately! The Prime Minister is down!"

Gubbins got down on his knee and tried to prop the leader of the British government into a sitting position. Churchill, his eyes glassy, suddenly grabbed the General by the tie. "Find him," he hissed. "Find Fleming!"

5:16AM EST
London

My love, he wrote. This is but a short message because the hour of my departure draws short. I do not know when I will be able to write you again, as in the days to come I shall become a man without a country. But this period should undoubtedly be short, for if I succeed great changes shall be wrought. And a great and ever growing evil shall be extinguished. The details I cannot say here, but know that what you have been told on the radio and in print is not true. Nor is what they will say about me. If I would be so selfish I would dash you off with me to safety, in what will be assuredly my final mission. But I draw warmth in the fact that you are safe, and that someday soon I may see you again in a day that is not so darkened.

- F

Ian Fleming stood up from the worn, pockmarked desk that he had commandeered in the corner of the basement. Henry Morgenthau sat in his chair, still bound, silently watching him. Stuart Adams was sorting his gear in the opposite corner. Readying himself.

Yes, he thought. We're all readying ourselves. Fleming folded the letter and placed it in an envelope. He would mail it to Ann when they departed, and by the time she received it - if she received it - they would be long gone. Away from London, and indeed if all went well away from Great Britain itself.

 

[Seafort]

June 18, 1945
5:35AM EST
London

Anthony Eden hurried past the guards to the bunker and immediately recoiled as a wave of sweat and ozone hit him. The Secretary of State for Foreign Affair made his way through the cramped chamber, one filled with overheating machinery and dozens of technicians. It was mid-day now, and even underground with air conditioners running the structure was stifling. He stopped, and let out a small gasp as he saw two medics placing Winston Churchill onto a stretcher.

"What happened?" he asked in alarm.

Ernest Bevin shook his head. "We're not certain," said the Minister of Labor. "But he may have suffered a heart attack."

"Good Lord," muttered Eden.

Major-General Colin Gubbins watched the two of them silently, and said nothing as Churchill was wheeled out of the bunker. Time was slipping, he thought. I have to act with haste.

6:58AM EST

Joint session of Congress called; Truman to make major announcement on postwar Germany - New York Times headline

President to address de-Nazification in speech to Congress - Washington Times-Herald headline

 

[Seafort]

June 18, 1945
8:47AM EST
London

Once more Henry Morgenthau found himself riding through London. Although this time he was not the honored emissary of a trusted ally. No, he thought as he waited in the backseat with Adams, I am a prisoner. Or was he? He pondered that point wordlessly as the sights of Britain's capital passed by. Stores and restaurants were open with civilians milling about, but these seemed pockets of normalcy amidst a veritable archipelago of ruin and military vehicles.

He still wasn't entirely sure what to believe. That he had been targeted for assassination - he had only Fleming's word to go by. Well, that and the copy of the Times that he held in his lap. The paper that had a feature on his own funeral which was due to take place in North Carolina the very next day. Morgenthau winced at the pain that his wife Elinor had to be experiencing. He was tempted to thrust himself at the window, to scream I am alive! But instead he sat quietly, firm in the knowledge that any attempt at escape would be countered by the pistol that Lieutenant Adams had pressed against his side.

Ian Fleming was equally quiet as he manuevered the Ford Anglia towards the outskirts of London. He had left the Mercedes behind yesterday, along with most of his hair courtesy of a pair of electric sheers that he had brought back. One could never be too cautious. Now, as they approached Putney Bridge the first real test was to come. Even though curfew had passed, there were rings of security around London checking people going in and out of the city. Martial law was in force, and non-essential travel had been prohibited.

As their vehicle came closer to the checkpoint, he wondered about his decision to keep Morgenthau in the back seat. "What if he's recognized?", Adams had asked as they left the basement hours earlier. And why would he be, had come been the response. To the entire world, the US Secretary of the Treasury was dead. And if they were successful, perhaps he would stay that way. If.

Eventually they entered the line to the fortified entrance of Putney Bridge. "It wasn't this secured during the Blitz," exclaimed Adams. Dozens of soldiers manned the entrance, checking the papers of drivers who waited in line to cross.

"No," replied Fleming dryly. "And if you had not aided Gubbins as you did, it never would have been this secured."

Adams turned red and said nothing. Fleming was satisfied. Despite his aid and attack of conscience, Ian was certain not to forget the part that the Naval officer had played in this entire affair. Or the lives that he had ended.

Several minutes later he pulled up to the checkpoint.

"Your identification," demanded one of the soldiers who approached the vehicle.

"Here," said Fleming. He handed over the ID, and the soldier scrutinized it. After a few moments, the man walked away and headed towards the guardhouse.

"They know," whispered Adams from the back.

"Perhaps," said Fleming. "We shall soon find out."

At the guard house, the Soldier entered and handed the identification to his sergeant. He looked at the picture on the wall before him, and then at the ID. The resemblance was there.

Meanwhile in the car a rivulet of sweat ran down Henry Morgenthau's face. Was this the time, he wondered. Or is it my last chance of escape? He could scream for help, and scores of soldiers would come running to his aid. Within minutes, Elinor could know that he was safe and within a day he could be reunited with her. Or he could get shot for his efforts. Or, if what he had been told was true, he would never be allowed to return to the United States embassy. Scenarios danced through his mind, odds being weighed and counterweighed.

Two minutes later the Soldier returned. He studied the occupants of the Ford. The older gentleman was sweating, far more than one should normally. Even on a summer morning. Both men in the backseat both appeared nervous.

"Have you caught any of the German sympathizers?", asked Fleming.

"I'm not at liberty to say," replied the Soldier dryly. He took another look at the older man in the backseat. He seemed to be trembling, almost panicked.

Fleming noticed the man's expression and tried to distract him. "If you, do not treat them gently. I had friends at the Claridge."

The Soldier nodded. After a few seconds he handed him back the papers. "Have safe travels, Mister -"

"Secretan. James Secretan."

The Soldier waved them by, and after a few seconds they were crossing the bridge and disappeared into Putney. The man shook his head. The identification papers were good, but were clearly forgeries. It was definitely Ian Fleming. And when the moment of opportunity arose he would let his contact with the OSS know.

 

[Seafort]

June 18, 1945
10:00AM EST
Washington, DC

My fellow Americans. Today, we stand just two weeks away from celebrating that most important anniversary in the history of our great nation. On that glorious day, it will be the one hundred and sixty ninth anniversary of the birth of the independence of our country. Our forefathers in Philadelphia not only established a new nation—they established a nation based on a new idea. They said that all men were created equal. They based the whole idea of government on this God-given equality of men. They said that the people had the right to govern themselves. They said the purpose of government was to protect the unalienable rights of man to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

We have just concluded one front of a war against nations dedicated to the exact opposite of these ideals. Nations dedicated to the purpose of the subjugation of man over man. Of one man having the right to govern the many. That all men were not created equal, that not only did should some men be eliminated but that others, in fact countless millions should be brought into submission and killed. Our opponent was unlike any that we have faced on the field of battle, yet we as Americans have triumphed. But while the war draws to its inevitable conclusion on islands of the Pacific and soon the homeland of Japan, we find another front reopening once more. An enemy that refuses to honor its own surrender. An enemy that has used the terms that it had agreed to as merely a cloak to continue military operations against not only our armed forces, but against civilians all across liberated Europe.

Agents of the Nazi regime have sought a renewed encounter against the Allies. Terror reigns in Great Britain. The leader of liberated France is targeted for assassination. The submarines of a once vanquished regime now prowl the Atlantic, having torpedoed the French carrier Bearn. In the shattered heartland of our defeated opponent, Allied military forces find themselves under direct attack in an armed, sustained German uprising. Generals Eisenhower and Bradley was murdered. Not fallen upon the field of battle, but killed in a desperate, dishonorable, and cowardly attack. And Secretary Morgenthau, he too slain by this monstrous cause. These are just three of a growing list of names taken by an enemy that has not in fact surrendered, that has no honor, no compassion, but remains a threat to all of us still.

President Roosevelt once said that the Axis Powers were driven by a philosophy that is nothing more nor less than an attempt to overthrow and to cancel out the great upsurge of human liberty of which the American Bill of Rights is the fundamental document. He was entirely correct, but I reiterate that human liberty exists not just in the hearts of every American. It lives in the hearts of all. Whether in here, or in Asia, or in Europe, it is a universal longing. The Nazi regime's attempts both then and now run antithetical to this hope. Therefore it is our responsibility as Americans to ensure that this flickering hope is not extinguished.

As your President, I therefore come to you with the following steps.

Firstly, this shall be a harsh peace. For in fact, our enemy has not given us peace in surrender, but further war. Therefore once they have been brought to submission, that submission will be rendered absolute. Henceforth, no industrialization shall be allowed within the former Nazi Germany. As they have cost us and our Allies a countless toll in blood and treasure, so shall that recompense be taken from them. The resources of Germany will be split equitably and peacefully amongst the Allied Powers. Nevermore will German planes bomb cities. Nevermore will German warships ply the seas, torpedoing unsuspecting merchants of trade. Nevermore will German tanks roll in a blitzkrieg through innocent nations. And nevermore will the German people, an entire generation now tainted by the ideology of Nazism be permitted to impose their will over others. These fanatics will be made to understand both the futility and evil of their cause.

However, we are not our enemy. The sins of the fathers and mothers are not to be passed on to the sons or the daughters. Human liberty is a universal longing, and one that even in the ruins of Nazi Germany still lays untainted within the babes of this generation. For them, we insist upon mercy. While their parents learn the true nature of their crimes, there can be no reason to impose the same punishment upon the innocent. Therefore as President, and in coordination with our Allies we will be undertaking the following steps. All German children under the age of five shall be evacuated and relocated to host sites within not only the United States, but also with our Allies. Here they can grow untainted by the ideology that led to the corruption and downfall of their parentage. That longing for freedom will not be hindered, but encouraged and grow in the sunshine of democracy.

These are new demands, but as Americans these are burdens that we are uniquely qualified as a people to bear. In the weeks and months to come, I ask that you all bear them equally with me as we seek to bring this war to a conclusion for the betterment of all the peoples of the world.

Transcript of President Harry Truman's address to the Joint Session of Congress

 

[Seafort]

June 18, 1945
10:09AM EST
Tokyo, Japan

Prime Minister Kuniaki Koiso sagged back in horror as he listened to the applause. Of the other members of the Supreme War Council, not all spoke English. But he did, and as Truman continued the ramifications of the Allies policy towards Germany were clear. There can be no peace, he thought with a mixture of alarm and fear. This fight is now joined to the bitter end.

10:10AM EST
Moscow, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
A translator spoke the Russian translation of Truman's speech over the radio as the President continued. "We must not be deterred," said the translator. "Our foes have shown no pity or remorse. Now that will be granted back to them in just punishment."

For many of the various generals and aids who were gathered about in the meeting room, the translator was necessary. But Stalin could understand English, a fact that he had used to his advantage in his dealings with Winston Churchill and Truman's predecessor.

He allowed himself the thinnest of smiles, and allowed his gaze to wander to the situation map of Europe. Countless forces were arrayed across the continent, in positions that three weeks ago seemed unthinkable.

Very soon, he thought.

10:11AM EST
London, United Kingdom
First Lord Brendan Bracken sat at the conference table across from Anthony Eden and Ernest Bevin. Aids rushed about, creating for Bracken the impression of almost being within the center of the whirlwind. For indeed they were. They all were. Prime Minister Churchill lay in the hospital, unconscious and with news of his condition unrevealed.

"Let us be clear," said Harry Truman on the radio at the center of the conference room. "We do envision the day where the descendants of the former Nazi Empire can rejoin the community of nations. A community build upon peace, tolerance, and freedom. But it is clear that this day is not soon at hand, but can only won by the persistence and firmness of America and our Allies."

10:12AM EST
Even though it was a summer day, in the afternoon it felt unusually cool for Ian Fleming. His passengers had remained quiet, spell cast as they listened to the live transmission of President Truman's address.

"This is a most grave course that we embark upon," continued Truman over the radio within the Ford Anglia. "Should we fail, the forces of darkness would descend once more, first upon Europe and then the rest of the world. The love of freedom would be snuffed out forever by the darkness of subjugation. This we cannot allow to stand. As your President, I commit us to a course that would maintain these freedoms. We must not falter. We must endure. Great responsibilities have been placed upon us, and these responsibilities we shall endeavor to meet. I speak with utmost confidence that the American people and the Congress will face these responsibilities squarely."

There was an explosion of applause from the radio. Fleming looked through the rear view mirror to Morgenthau, who had said nothing during the address.

"It sounds as if they went with your plan," said Fleming.

The United States Treasury Secretary did not reply. Whatever this was, he thought, this was far more than his plan.

The applause coming from the radio continued as they approached the town on Tintagel.

10:14AM EST
Munich, American Zone of Occupation

It was raining heavily, and the almost black skies gave a nightmarish feel to the makeshift office that had been given to the mayor of Munich. Repeated lightning flashes illuminated the tabletop radio, around which was gathered Karl Scharnagl, Karl Meitinger, and several other aides. Their faces were drained of color. The American President's speech was now over, and all that remained to be heard was the cacophonous applause from the gathered representatives of the House and Senate.

And then another noise began to be heard, above the din of the clapping. It could scarcely be made out, but then grew louder. It came not from a single source, but from dozens. And within moments, it seemingly was everywhere.

The two American soldiers who stood guard at the door could hear it too. Each tightened their grips on the weapons they held in hand.

Scharnagl sagged back in his chair as the noise grew ever louder.

They were the guttural cries of those in the ruins of Munich. They had heard the speech too.

 

[Seafort]

11:38AM EST
Koblenz, French Zone of Occupation

Caporal Jean Phillipe Martin was lost. And terrified. He had stepped into a deserted, half destroyed bar minutes earlier, his stomach rebelling against the spoiled rations that he had eaten before leaving base to go on patrol. When he had returned the other two members of his group were dead, the downpour of rain mixing with the crimson ebbing from their still forms.

He ran through one narrow street, then another. Although tens of thousands lived in Kolbenz it may have well have been no one. Scarcely a light could be seen, and the only visibility came from lightning flashes overhead. Shadows cast by the streaks of light piercing the sky presented a thousand possible enemies from the rubble that had been pushed to each side of the street. Martin paused, hyper ventilating for a few moments. I must get my bearings, he thought. These are fanatics, no more than a handful that -

That thought ended in a blinding flash that wiped out everything thereafter.

Several seconds later the weathered face of German civilian stood up from behind a non-existent storefront window. The panzerfaust may have been overkill, but one had to use the weapons at hand. He and countless other retired, World War I veterans had been issued such devices as the Allied invasion of Germany had approached. He left his firing position and approached the smoking remnants of his opponent. The lingering fires were quickly doused by the continuing deluge from above.

"You will not take my grandchildren," he said quietly.

 

[Seafort]

11:55AM EST
Tintagel, United Kingdom

Stuart Adams crouched on the rocky shore of Tintagel Haven. One meter waves crashed onto the beach of the small cove, sweeping salt water past his feet. He looked out at the ocean and sighed. "What are we waiting for?" he asked.

Ian Fleming stood on a rocky outcropping that thrust itself out into the cove, the wind whipping salty mist up and around him. The sun would soon be setting. He scanned the horizon. Still, nothing.

"You'll know it when you see it," he replied.

Further up the beach, away from the surf stood Henry Mogenthau. The Treasury Secretary was unbound, but he did not dare countenance a run for it. It was not an easy trek to this hidden cove, the three of them have descended down a cliff trail before finally ending up in this gray and desolate inlet. The idea of trying to slip away was beyond reason, and based upon the events of the last two days he no longer considered it the most viable of options. Whatever they were waiting for, the British journalist had not said.

Adams felt colder, and realized he was now falling into the shadow of Tintagel Castle. The ancient fortification stood silently overhead, much as it had for so many years. He sniffed. It would be night soon, and they would have to either make camp further away or seek a new destination.

"Commander, I think we should consider leaving for the -"

"There they are!" yelled Fleming. He allowed a small smile to creep across his face for the first time.

A launch boat emerged into view, having rounded the corner of the cove. Fleming waved at them, then hurried off the outcropping.

"A few minutes tardy," he sighed. He then turned to Morgenthau, "But this is our exfiltration from here."

The small launch motored up towards the beach. "Commander Flemming?", asked a sailor at the boat's prow.

"Here!" shouted Fleming back. He turned to Adams and Morgenthau. "Let's go."

Fleming and Adams began wading into the chilly surf, with the Treasury Secretary reluctantly following them. The waves came rolling in, threatening to carry the launch onto the beach and nearly knocking Morgenthau over. Fleming reached out and hooked the older man under the arm, bolstering him up and heading back towards the launch.

A sudden crack was heard, followed by the splash six inches from where Morgenthau had stumbled. The three of them whipped back, and saw that half a dozen uniformed men now standing in the cove. All armed, they began to fire at the fleeing trio.

"Just what I feared!" yelled Fleming. "Hurry!"

The three of them trudged further into the ocean, the launch beckoning ahead. The sailors aboard, their forms not clear in the throbbing surf returned an unsteady fire. The gunmen on the beach took cover behind outcroppings within the cove and shot back.

Panic overtook Morgenthau as he pushed himself forward to what he hoped would be safety. More bullets whistled overhead, this time hitting the prow of the beckoning launch. A sailor aboard was hit and plummeted out of sight. The remaining men shot back again.

The Treasury Secretary glanced backward and saw one of the assailants on the cove grazed in the shoulder and disappear behind the outcropping that Fleming had been standing on only minutes before. He turned to again face the launch, just in time for a wave to smack into his face and send saltwater shooting down his throat. Morgenthau collapsed, trying to cough and losing his balance. The water began to close over his head.

Suddenly strong hands grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt, hauling him up and out of the ocean and into the launch. He curled into a fetal position, coughing reflexively as Adams and Fleming scrambled aboard. Fleming turned to one of the sailors and shouted, "Go!"

The men on the beach still firing at them, the boat quickly reversed itself and headed back out to sea. As they rounded the bend of Tintagel Cove, the gunfire ceased. Morgenthau coughed the last of the saltwater out and tentatively sat up. He looked around at his rescuers. United States Navy. All of them. Several of the men recognized him, and looked at him with amazement.

"You're back from the dead to them," said Fleming.

"I suppose," replied Morgenthau with a shudder. "Where are we going?"

"There, and then home," answered the British Reporter, pointing ahead. About a kilometer away sat an American cruiser.

USS Marblehead.

 

[Seafort]

JUNE 18, 1945 1:35 PM EST
London

Major-General Colin Gubbins held the glass of Ararat brandy in his hand, the receiver of the telephone in the other. Quietly, he placed the receiver down and sat back in his office. He had returned there minutes earlier, following the Prime Minister's transportation to the hospital.

This could be the end, he thought as he starred at the swirling contents of the glass before him. I am to blame.

He shook his head violently. No, it is that traitor, Fleming. Curses coursed through his brain as he recounted the conversation thirty minutes earlier. The turncoat had delivered Henry Morgenthau to a waiting boat, and more importantly he had been brought to an American warship. Gubbins had ordered the ship surveiled, but so far they had remained in a state of radio silence. If the Americans were going to notify their superiors that they had the supposedly dead Secretary of Treasury in hand, they had not done so yet.

And there in lies the opportunity. The thought exploded in his mind, followed by the beginnings of a plan. One that was of the highest risk, he thought. But one that could save the British Empire.

He downed the glass and stood up, a decision having already been made. But first and most importantly, I need the Prime Minister.

Whoever that now may be.

 

[Seafort]

JUNE 18, 1945 1:35 PM EST
USS Marblehead

Captain Kraker folded his arms as he leaned back against a bulkhead in the officer's mess. It had been cleared out and sealed, leaving himself, Doctor Pritchard, and his three guests. He had seen a lot during this war, but never anything such as this.

"I still cannot believe it," he finally said quietly.

"Believe it, Captain," replied Henry Morgenthau. The Secretary of Treasury had changed out of his dampened, torn clothes and had been given a spare set of clothes. Thomas Prichard, the ship's doctor had examined him and determined that aside for various bruises he simply was suffering from exhaustion. A thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders and holding a cup of coffee, the caffeine kept the fatigue at bay. For the moment. Morgenthau took another sip and said, "I was there. I saw the Prime Minister for himself, and had I not done so I never would have believed such a story to be possible. He is, unwell."

"That he would have ordered the Bearn attacked. My ship attacked! My men!"

"The lives of you and your crew are inconsequential at this point, Captain," came the reply from the other end of the room. Ian Fleming ran his hand through his still wet hair and added. "There is far more at stake for him now. If the world were to know that Churchill had ordered the Bearn attacked first, that the French were merely retaliating it would shatter the Allied Coalition. And if they were to know that he had then ordered the assassinations, the bombings..."

"The British Empire would become the new Reich," added Stuart Adams. He shook his head. "We may all as well all be Nazis in the eyes of the world."

There was silence for several moments. No one spoke as the light cruiser sliced through the waves, the only sound the hum of her engines.

"How many know the truth?" asked Kraker.

"Far less than you might realize," replied Fleming. "Aside from the men in this room, and the crew who have seen us thus far, just Major General Donovan. He pulled the necessary strings to redirect your ship for the pickup at Tintagel. Nobody under him knows yet. Or over him."

The Marblehead's captain sighed. "We cannot remain in a state of isolation indefinitely."

"For now, we must. By now Churchill must know something. Gubbins' men were there to intercept us at Tintagel. But it is a large ocean, Captain. And we are Allies." Fleming groaned, rubbing his shoulders. "No, we must do what your Major General advised. Maintain radio silence until we are at least half way across the Atlantic."

"Will that work?", questioned Kraker.

"The evidence - all of it - is here. It has to."

1:53 PM EST
London

Ernest Bevin was uncomfortable sitting at the Prime Minister's desk. For how long it would remain unoccupied remained uncertain. They had received word that Churchill's condition had stabilized, but his return still more of a matter of it, and less about when. Still, the office within the bunker was almost completely sound proof, and what Major-General Colin Gubbins had just said certainly could not be shared outside the confines of the room and to the participants within. Not that he would have wanted to. The news they had just received could cause an incident, if not an outright panic.

"Are you sure, General?"

"Quite certain," replied Gubbins. "The traitors in this government, we know that not all of them have been rooted out. And perhaps some of them have taken hold within the American government. But that is an issue for another time. Right now, we know with certitude that the Marblehead was lured to within miles of our shores under false pretenses. That the ship was swarmed and boarded. And that the ship's company and crew are now quite dead. The Hun now control that vessel."

"What could possibly be their aim," asked Andrew Cunningham. The First Sea Lord appeared dismissive. "It is an American light cruiser. An old one at that. Do you propose that they intend to shell us?"

"Not with conventional shells. You are aware of the progress German atomic weapons program, sir?"

"There was no progress," dismissed the Sea Lord. "At least nothing that could manifest itself into the weapons that we feared."

Gubbins pulled a folder from his briefcase and handed it to Cunningham. "These are intelligence reports, photographs, and testimony from captured workers on the nature of the Nazi nuclear weapons program. While a bomb was not produced, we do know that they have generated copious amounts of uranium oxide. And therein lies our threat. Per the intelligence that we have received which is in that binder, we believe that the Germans intend to use projectiles that are saturated with these materials. Whether they can hit individual targets with their 150mm cannon is irrelevant. That they can contaminate entire regions is what is pertinent in this situation."

Cunningham clenched his jaw and closed the binder. "How can you be sure that they can retrofit American munitions for such a task?"

"Our intelligence indicates training with American POWs. Perhaps with the help of Japan before German's supposed surrender. Irregardless, this is what they intend to do."

"Dear Lord," gasped Brendan Bracken. "They must be stopped!"

"Indeed," replied Gubbins. "That is why I have requested all of you here. Prime Minister Churchill was aware of this threat, but chose to keep it compartmentalized for the sake of sensitivity in our relations with the Americans. Now, I have no choice but to share it with you all."

He turned and faced that map of the North Atlantic on the wall. "We have one item in our favor," he said quietly. "We know roughly where the Marblehead is. And we do not know for certain that the United Kingdom is the target. There is equal reason to believe that New York may be the intended point of attack."

"We must alert the Americans!" cried Bevins in alarm.

"I would strongly advise against that. The Prime Minister was quite concerned about the effect on our relations with them if such a plan were to reach fruition. As much as we may not wish to admit it, we need American resources and funding. This sort of incident - Germans working in collaboration with British sympathizers might push public opinion away from our Empire at a time that we need their assistance the most."

Gubbins turned to the Sea Lord. "Sir, we know that there is a rogue German submarine still out there. The same one that attacked the Bearn. It is still unaccounted for. Any misfortune that befalls the Marblehead can be attributed to this craft."

Cunningham was silent, staring at the leader of the Special Operations Executive.

"Sir," said Gubbins. "We must do this ourselves. Can we count upon the Royal Navy to execute this task?"

 

[Seafort]

5:15PM EST

Truman vows Harsh Peace in Joint Address; Nazi Subterfuge to be Punished - New York Times evening headline

Evacuation of German children to begin immediately - Washington Times-Herald evening headline


5:16PM EST
Frankfurt, American Zone of Occupation

General Montgomery Bernard surveyed the teams of soldiers that stood at attention in the courtyard of SHAEF. Colonel Charles Codman stood nearby, silently observing. And waiting to report back to Patton, undoubtedly, he noted dourly.

"Know then that our orders have been expanded from occupation and control," he said loudly. In the distance there were still the occasional crackles of gunfire. German resisters were still roaming the ruins of the city and were being dealt with, albeit in piecemeal fashion.

"This is now a rescue mission. One of mercy, but one that will be undertaken within potentially hostile circumstance."

Somebody groaned within the hundreds of American soldiers that were standing before him. The British General grimaced. "In one sense this shall be unlike anything that you have undertaken before, yet in another it is a continuation of the liberation that the British and Americans have brought to the continent. Today we will begin to liberate the youth of this land from the ideologies that have corrupted their parents and ravaged Europe. This is our common purpose, and we will conduct these operations with the character that bespeaks our nations. Dismissed."

The soldiers then broke into smaller ranks. Instructions would be handed out by superior officers. Grids were to be assigned, and then the units would go out into the night.

Montgomery saw Codman heading back towards the building. No matter, he thought. The British General looked at the bullet holes in the SHAEF headquarters, at the damage to the building from the earlier Werwolf attack. And then at the soldiers who were receiving their assignments.

Will this be the period to this matter? Or simply a new phase of escalation?

6:35PM EST
Munich, American Zone of Occupation

Anotnia Beckenbauer shuddered as a blast rocked her home. Now seven months pregnant, she had heard the broadcast by the American president. That all children under the age of five were to be relocated out of Germany. So too would be the child that she carried. Rumors were rampant that pregnant women would be taken away until they could give birth, but so far she had not seen this herself. Not that I can, she thought, I am hiding in a basement.

She had been there for three hours, hiding beneath the wreckage of a clothes cabinet. Above her, outside of the home she could hear continuous bursts of gunfire. The sounds of tanks moving through the streets. And the explosion of grenades.

The noise of the battle above continued for a while longer, then died down. And then she began to hear the screams.

6:48PM EST
Berlin, Soviet Zone of Occupation

Vasily Chuikov grimaced. Despite counterattacks, the sounds of the German insurgency were still audible within the Soviet headquarters. As were the actions to suppress it.

"The damn Americans and their foolish president," the Soviet general said. "This was to be an occupation. Not a battle of annihilation."

"Nor will it be," replied Georgy Zhukov. As military governor of the Soviet Occupation Zone this was ultimately his responsibility. No doubt any failure would be counted against him by Stalin, but also amplified by Beria. However in this case, Zhukov had agreed almost entirely with the orders that had been transmitted from Moscow.

"We will continue to put down the efforts of the Hitlerites," he said. "But as for the children, let that be on the heads of our Allies."

7:01AM EST
The Atlantic

Captain K.J. D'Arcy stood on the cramped bridge of the HMS Queen, watching the last of the Avengers take flight. To the starboard he could see Wildcats and Avengers alighting from the HMS Trumpeter and HMS Searcher. The three escort carriers had struggled to get their squadrons up in the rough North Atlantic weather, but had ultimately done so successfully.

He shuddered as he thought of the orders that he had received less than two hours earlier. They had been the closest to the estimated position of the enemy vessel, a ship now manned by the same fanatics who had brought such mayhem and death to Great Britain. He just prayed that they could intercept the Marblehead in time.

 

[Seafort]

JUNE 18, 1945 8:34 PM EST
USS Marblehead

"All ahead, full speed!" Captain Kraker bellowed as he watched the second of the ship's float planes catapult into the night sky. Within moments they felt the throbbing of the ships engines as they began to work up from a state of near idleness, pushing the light cruiser forward. Although the sea state itself was still relatively calm, lightning revealed blackened clouds ahead amidst increasingly heavy rain.

He hurried over to the ship's radarman. The screen tied to the SK-1 radar continued to show the ominous signs that had led to their latest course of action. Squadrons of aircraft were approaching from the east in an almost meandering fashion. Likely because of the weather all around them, his ship had not been found yet. But it was only a matter of minutes. If not sooner.

He shuddered. "Set course for that squall. I want to remain concealed as long as possible."

And he then made a decision. Fleming's wishes can reside in the deep, Kraker thought. The captain turned to the radio officer. "Send out a distress call, immediately. Tell them we are under attack and request all assistance."

He paused.

"And tell them that it is the British Navy."

 

[Seafort]

JUNE 18, 1945 8:51PM EST
Atlantic

Captain Charles Grisham stood rigidly on the bridge of the USS Omaha, looking starboard at the northern skies. Huge flashes of lighting bore witness to the massive storm gestating in the distance. Yet aside from the wind and and occasional light rain that buffeted the ship, the aging light cruiser continued to proceed ahead without issue.

The bridge's radioman suddenly broke the silence. "Sir," he said, "I am picking up a distress call. It's the Marblehead."

Grisham's brow furrowed as he turned to the radioman. "Are you certain," he asked. "The Marblehead would be nowhere in the vicinity. They should be halfway across the Atlantic right now with the Bearn."

The radioman clutched his head gear. "This is USS Omaha, receiving your transmission. Can you confirm?"

After a moment he nodded, then faced his captain. "Sir, it's confirmed. It is the Marblehead."

Grisham hesitated. There was a rogue German submarine unaccounted for, one that had already attacked both the Marblehead and the French aircraft carrier. Could it be a ruse, he wondered. He then pushed the thought from his mind. "What is their state and bearing? Are they caught in the storm"

"Seventy two miles northeast of us sir," replied the radioman. He paused, eyes widening. "Sir, they say they are under attack!"

"Attack? Is it the submarine again?"

The radioman clutched his headset, then sat back. He was incredulous.

"Speak up! What is their state!" barked Grisham.

"It's an air attack, sir. They're saying they're under British air attack!"

 

[Seafort]

​

JUNE 18, 1945 8:52PM EST
Munich, American Zone of Occupation

Anotnia Beckenbauer had waited for five hours. The cries of civilians, the crackle of gunfire that was all around, it had begun to die down. And then it had finally ceased.

At least in the immediate vicinity. The sounds could still be heard, but they were far away. Far off in the distance, somewhere.

Her back was aflame, having laid uncomfortably for so long. She had to move soon, and decided to now. Carefully, she extricated herself from the smashed, fallen clothing cabinet that she had hidden beneath. Carefully, quietly, Anotnia stood and tried to stretch. The pain in her back however was soon to be ignored as she was greeted by the sight that was visible through the now smashed windows of her home.

Munich was in flames.

8:54PM EST
Atlantic

"We're picking up transmissions from the Marblehead!" came the cry over the radio.

Lieutenant Drew Barrett groaned. The squadron commander and his men had been thoroughly briefed by Captain D'Arcy prior to flight. He knew what was at stake, and that the enemy would love to sow confusion between the British and Americans. A supposed cry for assistance from a "United State" cruiser was the last thing that this mission needed. This was to be a surgical strike, and it quickly risked becoming more than that.

The Marblehead had been almost undetected until minutes earlier, when the combined air strike from the Queen, Trumpeter, and Searcher had found her striving towards an intense squall line. And now they were upon her, but yet that distress call could be heard. And to give the enemy begrudged credit at their duplicity, in unaccented English.

"I repeat, this is the USS Marblehead! We are under attack from British aircraft! We request immediate assistance!" came the duplicitous message over the radio.

"Jam that transmission!", barked Lieutenant Barrett, straining to see the Marblehead through the driving rain.

Suddenly the sky lit up, illuminated from a massive explosion below. The cruiser's transmission had ceased.

I suppose there is more than one way to end that, he thought.

8:55PM EST
USS Marblehead

Captain Kraker struggled to his feet, the windows of the bridge smashed from the 2,000 pound bomb that had detonated between the foremost funnel and the superstructure. Rain lashed his face, coming from the holes left by the shrapnel that had torn through the bridge. His bridge crew were similarly staggering up, having similarly been knocked over. At least those who still lived.

"Status report!" he yelled.

"Communications are gone!", replied the radioman.

There was no reply from the radar operator. He was dead, and from a quick look the SK air search radar itself had been taken out by the blast as well. Kraker grimaced. They were not only blind, but they were now completely on their own.

8:56PM EST
Atlantic

A Wildcat exploded near Barrett. Furious, the British lieutenant dove his plane towards the American cruiser, strafing the Bofos anti-aircraft cannons that were helping to illuminate the ship as it sliced through the squall. Moments later a second bomb hit her, creating a mammoth explosion on the stern that sent a 6in turret flying up into the air.

"Sir, we're picking up transmission elsewhere," came a report over the radio.

"Another ship?" Barrett was confounded. He had been briefed on the German loyalist takeover of the Marblehead, not any additional vessels.

"No sir, it's aircraft. I think it's the Marblehead's sea planes."

"Intercept them!"

8:58PM EST
USS Omaha

Captain Grisham was incredulous. Until the Marblehead's communications had ceased, he had listened to the maydays that were coming from his command's sister vessel. And their own radar confirmed it. The cruiser was under aerial attack. An attack that he knew was continuing, but the ceasing of communication meant that the attackers - he could scarcely make himself call them the British - had either jammed transmissions. Or ended them.

And then there was a second round of communications, and he clutched the headset to his ear.

"This is Captain Grisham, USS Omaha. What is your sitrep?" he asked.

"This is Airman Rollins, USS Marblehead. The ship is under heavy air attack!"

"Is it the British?"

There was no reply, except for a burst of static.

"I repeat, is it the British? Your ship said you were under British aerial attack."

Again, there was no response.

"Marblehead airman, do you copy?"

8:59PM EST
Atlantic

"Splash one Kingfisher!"

Barrett shook his fist at the news. The last thing that they needed were escapees from the Marblehead creating more dissension. But he knew that the cruiser carried two float planes. If one had been launched, the other would be sure to be flying away as well.

"Find me that second float plane!"

9:00PM EST
USS Omaha

"I repeat, Marblehead, do you copy?" asked Grisham again.

After several seconds there was another burst of static, and then came a near wail over the radio.

"They are on my tail, sir...I am trying to lose them in the squall. They are British, sir! They swarmed our ship. Sir, what the hell is going on?!"

The Omaha's captain took a deep breath and responded. "Ditch now, son. You will never out run them in that Kingfisher. We'll recover you afterwards."

Again, a burst of static.

"Marblehead, do you copy?"

There was nothing. Grisham stood there for nearly a minute, waiting. The course of action in his mind was the only correct decision. But it was one that he would have to live with for the rest of his life. He finally handed the headset back to his radioman, then faced his first officer.

"Bring us about, Timmons" he said quietly. "I want space between us and that air strike."

"But sir," his first officer protested, "We cannot leave them to --"

"You have your orders. There is nothing that this ship can do to save the Marblehead at this point. All we can do is to alert Naval Command."

He paused for a moment.

"And dispatch our Kingfishers, now. I know that the Memphis is near Tangier. If we do not make it, hopefully our pilots can alert them."

Timmons frowned, but carried out his orders. Grisham sat back in his chair, wondering if the hammer of the British were about to fall upon them. He said a silent prayer for the Marblehead, and then thought on what the doomed float plane pilot had asked. Just what the hell is going on, indeed?

9:01PM EST
Atlantic

Lieutenant Barrett sighed in satisfaction. Having taken down the second Kingfisher personally, he circled back towards the Marblehead. The rain had intensified, but the glow of the fires on the American cruiser provided the glow that lit the way. Three more bombs hit the ship in rapid succession. The first two wrecked the midships, the third impacted where the aft 6 in turret used to be. Huge explosions lit up the sky, and after they cleared he could see that the stern of the cruiser was severed. The ship was now wallowing, her speed soon to drop to zero.

It was time to end this.

9:02PM EST
USS Marblehead

Blood streamed down Kraker's chest from a seven inch shrapnel wound in his midsection. However the rain rapidly washed it away, as the roof of the bridge was now gone. Destroyed in one of the bomb blasts. The crimson stream ran in a tide to join similar streams from other members of his bridge crew. They were all slumped over, and for all that Kraker knew they were dead.

Despite the rain the glow from the fires around provided plenty of illumination. As did one of the Bofos, whose crew stubbornly continued to put up a fight against the overwhelming assault. In the distance he heard the drone of motors and saw several aircraft approaching. He squinted, and then realized what they were. Avengers.

He tried to keep from doubling over as he approached what was left of the portside of the bridge. There, in waves, he saw the telltale tracks. And then he saw no more.

9:03PM EST
Atlantic

Cheers erupted over the radio as five torpedoes hit the Marblehead in rapid succession. The aged light cruiser was lifted from the water, then settled back at different angles. She rapidly began to heel over.

The celebration continued as Barrett circled his Wildcat overhead. He watched with grim satisfaction as the cruiser entered her death throes. Within seconds the midships had disappeared. Then what was left of the stern plunged forward beneath the waves and vanished. Finally that left the bow, rotating as it briefly thrust upwards at ninety degrees. Then it too slipped beneath the waves.

9:06PM EST
Atlantic

Lieutenant Thomas Pritchard saw blackness all around, feeling the seeming tug of the Marblehead as her wreckage continued its death ride to the bottom. And then, his vision fading, there was a sudden explosion below that pushed him towards the surface.

Moments later he surfaced, gasping for air. He floated in a sea of debris and soon realized that he was not alone. Other men were there, all around. Crying out for help. Screaming.

Flaming pieces of the ship provided illumination as he swam to one group of survivors who were clinging to a partially inflated raft. But as he swam he heard it.

The buzz of aircraft.

9:07PM EST

Lieutenant Barrett shook his head. The orders that they had been given prior to launch were explicit. These fanatics, these traitors had already been tried in absentia for their crimes against the British and Americans. Captain D'Arcy, while visibly troubled had confirmed the command when Barrett had questioned him.

"We have our orders," he said. "Begin your runs."

He dove his Wildcat towards the flaming pool of wreckage that undoubtedly contained survivors from the comandeered Marblehead. Beside him his squadron did the same.

Let the politicians sort out the ramifications of this disaster, he thought as ocean grew closer.

No survivors.

 

[Seafort]

JUNE 18, 1945 9:07 PM EST
Munich, American Zone of Occupation

"Halt!" came a loud cry from out of the darkness of the wrecked city.

Anotnia Beckenbauer paused, then leaning against a crooked lamp pole for support. While her area was dark, all around the sky was aglow from the fires that raged throughout Munich. She waited, then started to retreat towards the open door of a nearby building.

"I said, halt!"

Moments later six American soldiers came into view. Their guns drawn, all were clearly on edge as the sounds of gunfire resounded through the city. One of them stepped forward, and she reflexively put a hand to her belly. The soldier took notice of her advanced pregnancy, sighed, and took another step forward.

"Fräulein, Sie müssen mitkommen", he said.

Anotnia froze.

"Hier ist es nicht sicher," he said in passable German, advancing closer.

"You won't take my baby," Antonia replied in halting English. She began backing away, trembling.

"Fräulein, Sie müssen mit uns kommen. Es ist nicht sicher für Sie - "

He was cut off by a bullet passing through his skull. Before the rest of the Americans could react, more gunfire emerged from the shadows of the buildings around.

Within seconds it was over. German civilians emerged, still clutching machine guns.

"Fräulein, come with us," said an older man who might have been a grandfather. He put an arm around her and led her away, and as they headed off into the darkness she heard the sounds of gunfire again, this time finishing off the dying Americans left behind.

9:10 PM EST
Atlantic

Stuart Adams winced. He let go of the tarp above and wiped the water from his face, only to be smacked across the face.

"I said hold onto the tarp!" barked Fleming. Near the prow of the long boat sat Morgenthau, wet and shivering. The three of them held a long, green tarp over them. It was large enough that it covered the Marblehead's launch. In the distance they heard faint screams amidst the incessant roar of the Wildcats Browning machine guns. Somewhere else in the storm, the cruiser had died. And now its survivors were dying with it.

"This is a war crime!" Morgenthau finally yelled. The machine gunning continued unabated.

"Indeed it is," replied Fleming. "And if we are fortunate it will not be extended to include us. Keep hold of the tarp!"

Fifty minutes earlier Captain Kraker had notified them that squadrons of aircraft had been sighted on radar. He had volunteered to try to fly Morgenthau out on one of the ship's two float planes, but Fleming had argued for a different course. Ultimately the Treasury Secretary and the Marblehead's captain had been persuaded, and after bringing the cruiser to a full halt the three of them had disembarked on the ship's launch. Morgenthau had wondered if this was truly the right course as he had watched the warship disappear into the rain and catapult its two King Fisher planes as diversions, but he now realized that it was the only course.

The peppering of the machine guns finally ceased and the only noise was the light rain pattering against the tarp. But it was only a brief respite, as soon the sounds of explosions echoed across the sea.

"They're expending their ordinances," said Fleming grimly. "Taking no chances."

Chances. Morgenthau pondered this, wondering what chances that the three of them had as they clutched the tarp tightly, hoping that it would camouflage the launch from any aircraft flying in the rain overhead. And if they survived, then what?

The Atlantic awaited.

 

[Seafort]

JUNE 19, 1945 1:35 AM EST
Washington, DC

Harry Truman grimaced, tasting copper in his mouth. He had spoken to his physician earlier in the day. No, make that yesterday, he thought with resignation. The privilege of sleep had not come. Not yet. And maybe not for many hours to come. For what he had just heard made any other concerns appear insignificant.

Edward Halifax sat in a chair across from the President of the United States. The British Ambassador appeared pained, and rightfully so as. Secretary of War Kenneth Royall sat several feet away, staring daggers at the Earl of Halifax.

"Repeat to me again what you have told me," Truman said, with the tone that this was not a request to a like ally.

"As I said, the news I have to provide you is tragic," said the Ambassador. "Yesterday we learned that Nazi agents had successfully commandeered one of your warships, the Marblehead, after successfully luring it off the coast of Great Britain. These fanatics, these Werwolves had every intent of attacking my nation."

"And why did another warship report that the Marblehead was heading away from Great Britain?" asked Truman.

"I said that this was their intent. However their plan had been foiled by one of your own sailors. A brave man, he sent out a distress call as the ship was being seized. He was cut off seconds later."

"We received no record of a distress call," said Royall, quietly.

"I'm not surprised," replied Halifax. "The sailor was cut off within twenty seconds. The Marblehead was close to Titangel when it happened and may have been out of range of any of your vessels. I have a transcript of his communications."

The British Ambassador opened his briefcase, withdrew papers and handed it to Truman. He read them quietly.

"We don't know who the man was, but he should be commended. He saved countless lives."

The President placed the papers down upon the Theodore Roosevelt Desk.

"Countless lives, you say?" he said softly. "Countless?"

Truman lifted his head. He leaned forward, his face reddening.

"Tell me, Lord Halifax, just how many lives could an old light cruiser possibly take? What is the worst that she could have done? Shelled us with her main battery until she was sunk?"

He stood up, gripping the edge of the desk so tightly that his tendons appeared to be ready to rip through his hands. "And just who in the hell made Great Britain the arbiter of the fate of over 450 American sailors? The ship was headed away from your nation. If anything, it posed a threat to us! Why the hell did Churchill not call me?"

Halifax blanched. "The Prime Minister has suffered what appears to be a heart attack. He is unconscious presently."

Truman sagged backwards. Now this, his mind screamed.

"Mr President, there was more to this than just the threat of 150mm cannons. The rapidity of our decision came in concert with our SOE also receiving intelligence that the Werwolves who seized the Marblehead had in their possession special materials. Materials of a most unique nature."

"What type of special materials," asked Truman.

Halifax paused for a second.

"The same special materials that would be found under your Manhattan Project."

 

[Seafort]

JUNE 19, 1945 1:41 AM EST

Munich, American Zone of Occupation

The night had been long and sleepless in the small building where Karl Scharnagl had temporarily set up the office. His aids had set up blackout curtains at the orders of the two American guards in the room, and they could only listen as nearly continuous gunfire was heard as the hours advanced, only interrupted by the sound of cannon fire from tanks and the occasional explosion of such combatants. While Scharnagl had lost access to communications with anyone outside of the building, it was clear that Munich was in a state of open revolt.

A loud explosion suddenly rocked the office, causing both of the American guards to jump. They hurried to the door, rifles drawn. The two soldiers waited, and strangely enough the gunfire died down. It became quiet, as quiet as it had been in many hours, with only the crackle of gunfire heard in the distance. It was almost dawn, and Scharnagl supposed that his fellow Germans were retiring. No, he corrected himself. The resistance.

Suddenly everyone heard footsteps coming down the corridor. The guards tensed, gripping their rifles tightly.

"Hello?" came a voice from outside the door.

"Identify yourself!", yelled one of the guards.

"Lieutenant Patin, 42nd Division."

The guards looked at each other, then turned to the door. "Who won the World Series?"

A pause, then a chuckle. "The Cardinals. Now open the damn door!"

A moment later the doors were opened and Lieutenant Robert Patin stepped in along with a platoon of soldiers. He turned immediately to Scharnagl.

"Sir, you will be coming with us."

 

[Seafort]

JUNE 19, 1945 1:45 AM EST
Washington, DC

Truman sat back and looked at Royall. The new Secretary of War had been briefed on the details of the Manhattan Project yesterday, and was ashen faced.

"Atomics?" Royall asked.

Halifax shook his head. "Not a functioning weapon, from what our intelligence indicated. But the materials for one. Bored into the shells of the Marblehead's munitions. They were intending for mass contamination. Either in the British Empire, or based on the direction that the ship was headed, your Eastern coast."

Truman stared at the British Ambassador for several seconds. "I would like to see that intelligence. Today. And I want to speak to whoever the hell is now running your government. Immediately."


1:53PM EST
Munich, Germany

Karl Scharnagl fell roughly into the back of the M3 half-track parked outside of what was the temporary's mayor's office. He sat up and peered over the edge of the vehicle. The front of his building had taken far more damage in the course of the night than he had first believed. One section had collapsed, an American flag now laying on a mound of debris.

"Get down!" hissed Karl Meitinger. The architect pulled Scharnagl down next behind the armored cover of the half-track's passenger area.

The mayor of Munich seemed in a daze, shaking his head and staring at the floor of the vehicle. "What happened?" he finally asked, speaking in English.

"A revolt, Herr Mayor," replied Lieutenant Patin. He scanned the rubble strewn streets for a moment. "All right, let's move out!"

Quickly the half-track sprang to life. It was escorted by two Sherman tanks, one in front, the other behind the M3. Several of Patin's platoon climbed into the vehicle, while the remainder scrambled onto the tanks.

"Where are you taking us?" asked Meitinger.

Patin smiled, but there was no humor behind it.

"Somewhere safe."

Despite his own admonition to his mayor, Meitinger crept up and dared to look over the side of the half-track's protective walls. It was now morning, but it may as well have been night time. Enormous palls of smoke obscured the sun, and visibility was limited to less than one hundred meters. As the convoy made it way through the mud and filth of rain-filled streets and ruined lives, the architect took in the horror that his city had descended into. Gunfire continued to be heard, along with shelling. For Munich, the war had begun anew. And there was no sign of it ending.

 

[Seafort]

JUNE 19, 1945 2:03 AM EST
London

Ernest Bevin grimaced, then leaned close to the microphone. "As I said, Mr. President we had no choice. Our intelligence was that the Marblehead had been seized by forces hostile to the Allies. Forces that possessed radioactive materials."

He sat at the Prime Minister's desk within the darkened office. Sitting across from him were Anthony Eden, First Sea Lord Andrew Cunningham and Major-General Collin Gubbins.

"And you chose not to disclose this matter to us?" came the reply over the speaker. Eden could not see his American counterpart, but he could tell that Truman was seething. "When we had twice the available forces on hand? When there may have been American sailors held in captivity on that ship?"

Bevin glanced to Gubbins. The head of the Special Operations Executive took a sip from a glass of Ararat brandy, which Bevin had taken out a few minutes earlier when Washington had initiated communications. Gubbins then nodded.

"Mr President, they were dead. All of them." Bevins paused, then continued. "Several were captured in Titangel, having arrived late after the cruiser was seized. Through interrogation they revealed that the plans were to capture and then kill every serviceman onboard. There would have been no survivors."

"But you cannot be sure."

"The intelligence was quite specific. We could not take the chance that they had the means of monitoring our communications. As you are aware - "

Bevin paused, his stomach thinking at the thought of treason by people within his own party. He took a sip from his own glass of brandy and then continued.

"As you are aware, members of the British government were in league with the Nazis. Communicating with you risked exposure of the plot. That ship possessed a grave risk to the British Isles, if not your own nation. It had to be disposed of, before any further lives were lost."

The speaker was quiet for several seconds before finally coming to life.

"We will talk again about this, Ernest. This is not a closed matter, notify by any means. Notify us of any changes to the Prime Minister's status."

JUNE 19, 1945 2:06 AM EST
Washington, DC

Edward Halifax walked out of the Oval Office, and Kenneth Royall shut the door moment later. The Secretary of War walked back to his chair and sat down. Across from him
Harry Truman leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head.

"What do you think, Mr President," he asked.

"I think we need to come up with an appropriate way to notify the families of the Marblehead sailors. The war in the Atlantic was over, they're expecting their boys to come home."

"What of the British?"

The President was quiet.

"I think," he said, his voice trailing off. He then muttered an expletive and shook his head.