Jackboot Britain: The Alternate History - Hitler's Victory & The Nazi UK! Read Online Free PDF Page B
Book: Jackboot Britain: The Alternate History - Hitler's Victory & The Nazi UK! Read Online Free PDF
Author: Daniel S. Fletcher
penalty for not extending me the same courtesy and respect I show you is severe.”
This was met by silence. Major Wolf’s smile melted away, replaced by what was known in the SS as ‘the cold face’.
“None of this is compulsory; in fact, nothing is, beyond roll call once a week, and the washing system. You can laze around as you will, as shirkers if you so wish. With no privileges, and all the free time you could wish for. Or, you can learn, and grow. As military men, you will continue to wear your uniforms proudly, though spare shirts and trousers will be given to you also. Rest assured, any clothing given to you will be stripped of SS or German insignia before being presented to you, and will not be identifiable as German military field gear.
Lastly…” and though he smiled, the major’s voice took on a steely tone. “There are to be absolutely no escape attempts whatsoever . Infringements on this rule will result in punishment. I should not have to tell you what that means. Please… bear in mind the advantages of being in our care. Use this camp to your advantage.”
There was no response, and he nodded, as if pleased. “Sergeant Hitchman?!”
The Sarge stood to. “Sergeant Stanley Hitchman, Fourth–” he began, but was abruptly cut off.
“Sergeant major , as Platoon Leader and de facto company head, do you have any questions?
The Suffolk man bristled visibly, his chest fractionally rising.
“As you mention it, I most certainly do, Major Wolf,” he began, indignantly. “ I do not personally have any family left, but these men want to speak to their loved ones back home. All the fellows you see before you have families, parents, wives, children… they don’t know if they’re alive or dead. It would be a most grievous outrage, Sir, not to mention a barbaric desecration of the honourable code of war, if the families of brave soldiers were not allowed to contact their loved ones serving in France!”
There were some murmurings of assent from the assembled. Tommy even gave several open claps of support. Stanley opened his mouth to silence him, but stopped himself. He was deeply touched.
To Stanley’s consternation, however, the major merely smiled.
“ I understand your plight. Trust me, in time you will be able to send and receive mail and your families will be in regular contact. This internment is simply a temporary measure while the creation of the new form of the British body politic takes place. Our countries will of course have to diplomatically square away the unfortunate differences brought on by German reclamation of stolen territories to reintegrate our people back into the Fatherland, which were unlawfully signed away to Poland quite nearby in these forests, and of course, the criminal conduct of your government in not only declaring war on the Reich, but commissioning war crimes on German troops, breaching the Geneva Convention in several deeply disturbing ways…”
He trailed off, the blue eyes sliding downwards in an affectation of disquiet. Stanley rankled at the impertinence of the German officer, in leaving the issue vague – a matter of honour! Some of the more knowing of the assembled rolled their eyes; others scowled. It was no secret that SS and, it was said, even Wehrmacht conduct in Poland had been abysmal. The legitimate persecutions of Germans living in the lost lands of the ‘Polish Corridor’ that separated East Prussia from the rest of Germany after the Great War, was used to justify embarking on an orgy of unadulterated violence and terror, news of which slowly seeped west. Fire, bullets, bombs and rope; the four weapons freely wielded by the SS in the excessive brutality of their campaign. However, some of the more naïve British soldiers looked uncomfortable or even ashamed; embarrassed by the ungentlemanly conduct with which they were being accused of waging war.
“Furthermore,” Stanley blustered, indignant. “I should like your word of honour as an
This was met by silence. Major Wolf’s smile melted away, replaced by what was known in the SS as ‘the cold face’.
“None of this is compulsory; in fact, nothing is, beyond roll call once a week, and the washing system. You can laze around as you will, as shirkers if you so wish. With no privileges, and all the free time you could wish for. Or, you can learn, and grow. As military men, you will continue to wear your uniforms proudly, though spare shirts and trousers will be given to you also. Rest assured, any clothing given to you will be stripped of SS or German insignia before being presented to you, and will not be identifiable as German military field gear.
Lastly…” and though he smiled, the major’s voice took on a steely tone. “There are to be absolutely no escape attempts whatsoever . Infringements on this rule will result in punishment. I should not have to tell you what that means. Please… bear in mind the advantages of being in our care. Use this camp to your advantage.”
There was no response, and he nodded, as if pleased. “Sergeant Hitchman?!”
The Sarge stood to. “Sergeant Stanley Hitchman, Fourth–” he began, but was abruptly cut off.
“Sergeant major , as Platoon Leader and de facto company head, do you have any questions?
The Suffolk man bristled visibly, his chest fractionally rising.
“As you mention it, I most certainly do, Major Wolf,” he began, indignantly. “ I do not personally have any family left, but these men want to speak to their loved ones back home. All the fellows you see before you have families, parents, wives, children… they don’t know if they’re alive or dead. It would be a most grievous outrage, Sir, not to mention a barbaric desecration of the honourable code of war, if the families of brave soldiers were not allowed to contact their loved ones serving in France!”
There were some murmurings of assent from the assembled. Tommy even gave several open claps of support. Stanley opened his mouth to silence him, but stopped himself. He was deeply touched.
To Stanley’s consternation, however, the major merely smiled.
“ I understand your plight. Trust me, in time you will be able to send and receive mail and your families will be in regular contact. This internment is simply a temporary measure while the creation of the new form of the British body politic takes place. Our countries will of course have to diplomatically square away the unfortunate differences brought on by German reclamation of stolen territories to reintegrate our people back into the Fatherland, which were unlawfully signed away to Poland quite nearby in these forests, and of course, the criminal conduct of your government in not only declaring war on the Reich, but commissioning war crimes on German troops, breaching the Geneva Convention in several deeply disturbing ways…”
He trailed off, the blue eyes sliding downwards in an affectation of disquiet. Stanley rankled at the impertinence of the German officer, in leaving the issue vague – a matter of honour! Some of the more knowing of the assembled rolled their eyes; others scowled. It was no secret that SS and, it was said, even Wehrmacht conduct in Poland had been abysmal. The legitimate persecutions of Germans living in the lost lands of the ‘Polish Corridor’ that separated East Prussia from the rest of Germany after the Great War, was used to justify embarking on an orgy of unadulterated violence and terror, news of which slowly seeped west. Fire, bullets, bombs and rope; the four weapons freely wielded by the SS in the excessive brutality of their campaign. However, some of the more naïve British soldiers looked uncomfortable or even ashamed; embarrassed by the ungentlemanly conduct with which they were being accused of waging war.
“Furthermore,” Stanley blustered, indignant. “I should like your word of honour as an