Chapter 448: Harlow
“Are you telling me that the technical personnel who were under our tight control have all disappeared?” Churchill had not been in a good mo
“Are you telling me that the technical personnel who were under our tight control have all disappeared?” Churchill had not been in a good mood for the past few days. He was forced to hide in a sunless basement, staring blankly at a map showing British units that no longer existed.
In fact, the frontline commanders had already ordered the disbandment of some understrength divisions of only a few thousand men, incorporating them into real combat units. So, the forces on Churchill’s map, which had names but no fighting capability, were actually gone. However, some of the old, established units had been strengthened, and these forces had been ordered to guard the several important approaches to London.
Hearing Churchill’s question, the head of the intelligence department wiped the sweat from his forehead, not knowing what to say. His men had indeed been protecting those important individuals, and he had sent out his most alert veterans. Yet, over a hundred of them had been killed in their own heartland, in Liverpool.
The German special forces were like ghosts. They had created all sorts of trouble in London, leaving him, the head of intelligence, at his wit’s end. Now, another such German unit had appeared in Liverpool, which was enough to make him break down. In fact, the appearance of the German special forces had made the relevant British departments realize that they had no agency capable of countering this special unit.
The traditional intelligence services, while able to counter these German special operations teams in terms of intelligence analysis and acquisition, lacked sufficient strike power. The army, while capable of suppressing these special forces, was too slow to adapt to their operational tempo. The police were even less of a match for these specially trained German soldiers…
Moreover, Britain under a state of war was in chaos. The people were displaced, and the various government departments had lost their former oversight of the country. The number of refugees could not be tallied, and strangers were everywhere, which provided the perfect environment for the German special forces to run rampant.
“Mr. Prime Minister! The enemy has deployed a special unit that can operate independently in our occupied territories. This unit is different from previous espionage activities; they are not just for harassment. They have a strong combat capability, clear objectives, and perfect intelligence. They are not something our one department can handle…” As the saying goes, responsibility belongs to everyone, but credit belongs to oneself. If he didn’t shift the blame in this situation, his time as the head of intelligence would probably be over.
So he quickly presented his prepared excuse: “The navy’s inspections are not comprehensive or perfect, and the army is not cooperating with our actions… Our intelligence department is also helpless…”
When he went to the naval commanders, their excuse was: the air force can’t provide cover, so we are also helpless.
When he went to the air force commanders, their excuse was: the army lost the frontline airfields, so we are also helpless.
When he went to the army commanders, their excuse was: the navy can’t keep the enemy from our shores, so we are also helpless.
Now, the head of the intelligence department was saying the same thing: it’s the army and the navy’s fault, we are also helpless.
Even the most good-natured person, after hearing the same buck-passing excuses for days on end, would probably erupt in anger, right? So Churchill was furious. He blew his top in front of the head of intelligence. “You have no way? The army has no way! The navy has no way! The air force has no way! Are you all waiting for me to find a way? Or have you all already found a way and are preparing to defect to your new master, Chamberlain?”
Seeing the Prime Minister fly into a rage, the head of intelligence knew that his official position was probably lost. But he wasn’t too sad. At this moment, whether he was an official or not was secondary; whether he could save his own life was the main problem.
So, the head of intelligence deftly pulled a pre-written resignation letter from his inner suit pocket, placed it on Churchill’s desk, and said with great difficulty, “Mr. Prime Minister, since you are not satisfied with my work, I am willing to resign.”
What is shamelessness? This was it. The Germans were almost at the gates of the city, and you’re talking about resigning and preparing to run? Who was going to take over the mess you’re leaving behind? Those lost scientists and engineers were the future hope of the British Empire. You just lost them, and you think resigning is the end of it?
“Packed your bags? Ready to go to Liverpool? Then a boat to America? It’s safe there, and you can still get a salary,” Churchill sneered. “There are many people waiting for you there. Just leak a few of Britain’s secrets, and you can live very well. Every one of you has thought of a way out for yourselves. Who has thought of the British people? Who has thought of the British Empire?”
I’m just resigning, you don’t have to crush me with the future of the British Empire, do you? Besides, isn’t the current state of Britain the fault of you big shots? What does it have to do with me? the head of intelligence thought resentfully. But he still didn’t have the courage to say these words out loud and could only express his disdain, or rather, his dissatisfaction, with silence.
“Prime Minister! A telegram for you,” a secretary said, walking into Churchill’s office at that moment. To some extent, this eased the awkward atmosphere inside. But Churchill just took the telegram, glanced at it, and flew into a rage once more.
“Are they pigs? Are they pigs? A whole division can’t hold a small town! That’s an entire division!” Churchill cursed loudly, waving the telegram in his hand. The head of intelligence said nothing, because he knew without looking that Harlow had fallen.
After consolidating their defensive forces in the north, the German army had once again launched an offensive in the south. The British defenders were pinned down by the 140mm howitzers that their own countrymen in the north had abandoned, and they were beaten back all the way to the outskirts of Harlow.
Originally, Churchill had hoped that Harlow could hold out for three, or even ten, days, to buy more time for his defense of London. But to his great surprise, the Harlow garrison held out for only five hours before losing the gateway to London to Rundstedt’s Army Group A.
If nothing unexpected happened, by noon, the Germans’ cannons—or to be precise, the cannons the British had abandoned—would be able to fire on the streets of London. His plan for a million Londoners to fight to the death had become a complete joke before it had even made any progress. Soon, he, Churchill, would be able to hear the sound of German artillery, the roar of machine guns. He himself would become the first Prime Minister of the British Empire to have his capital attacked by an enemy’s land army while in office.
“Get out… just get out,” Churchill said, slumping powerlessly back into his seat and waving his hand wearily. “Let me be alone for a while.”
The two men, as if granted amnesty, quickly exited the Prime Minister’s room and came to the spacious corridor of the underground bunker.
“Are we… really finished?” the female secretary asked, looking at the head of intelligence. “Have the Germans already reached Harlow?”
“I’m afraid so, miss,” the head of intelligence said with a sigh. “Although we defeated the Italian offensive in North Africa a few days ago, our situation here is indeed very bad.”
“If, and I am willing to give you some… compensation, could you arrange for me to leave London? To the north or to America would be fine, Canada is also an option,” the female secretary asked softly.
Glancing at the secretary’s curvaceous figure, the head of intelligence swallowed. “What kind of compensation are you prepared to give me?”
“Tonight, wait for me at the exit of the bunker,” the woman said with an even more alluring smile, understanding the look in his eyes.
“Alright, that’s no problem. I will arrange for you to leave here and go to America, as long as you can obtain permission to leave,” the man nodded.
“And if I don’t have permission?” the woman asked again.
The man was taken aback for a moment, then nodded again. In these times, who cared about that permission? Perhaps one day Churchill would discover that his female secretary was missing, but by then, would he still be in the mood to look for a missing woman?
As expected, at noon, the Germans began to shell London. A dozen shells landed in the northeastern part of the city, reducing several still-intact buildings to ruins, killing dozens of civilians and injuring hundreds.
The streets of London were now empty of civilians. The occasional soldiers seen running across the street, carrying ammunition boxes and rifles, were hunched over. This was now the front line. This was now the battlefield.
That afternoon, Churchill, accompanied by his secretary and a few staff members, as well as the commander of the London garrison, inspected the shelled area. After shaking hands with a few pre-selected old people and posing for a few photos for the accompanying journalists, the Prime Minister hastily retreated to his basement.
That night, the British defenders launched a counter-attack on the Harlow area. The two sides fought fiercely for an entire night without a decisive outcome. The two armies fought back and forth in the ruins. The result was that the British retook the southern part of Harlow, but at the heavy cost of 5,000 men. Unlike the new recruits who had originally defended Harlow, this time the British had lost veterans pulled from various corners, so they had not gained much in this exchange.
The next day, the battle continued. The British-controlled southern part of Harlow was repeatedly visited by German bombers. In the end, the British abandoned the area and retreated to the immediate suburbs of London. The battle for Harlow ended in a German victory.
That night, the commander of the German Army Group A, Rundstedt, sent a telegram to Berlin. The content was concise: I have occupied Harlow. The Battle for London will commence tomorrow. Long live the Führer, Akado Rudolph!
Published: 2025-08-25T04:19:32.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-11-13T13:48:07.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c448-harlow-137276585
Advance chapters at Nightjar Reads · nightjarreads.com