Churchill's Ace (Epic War Series Book 1) (21 page)

“The French do enjoy the comforts of life. No wonder they are losing the war. Would you want to fight instead of eating cheese and drinking wine? And the French women…”

“Sargeant. I’m off to Frankfurt and then Berlin.”

“Congratulations on becoming the first ace in the West. Your Storch is fueled and waiting for you. It's a little hop to Frankfurt. The Luftwaffe has a fancy aircraft waiting for you there. Tell me when you get back about the champagne and the girls in Berlin. But don’t overdo it, I will get jealous.”

“Thank you. I’m leaving shortly.” The Storch plane was at the end of the runway. The plane was a single-engine prop observation plane that was also used for short flights. The slow moving two-seat plane was ideal for landing on short runways. The pilots saw it more like a toy than a plane.

Wolf went back to the barracks and gathered a bag of his belongings for his trip to Berlin. He latched onto his Luftwaffe dress suit that was hanging near his bed. Hans turned over, and he mumbled, “Say hello to Goering.”

“I will.” Hans rolled over and went back to sleep.

Wolf left the barracks and walked toward Colonel Dunkel’s quarters. He stopped in the darkness and looked at the Storch at the end of the field and the rear window to the Colonel Dunkel’s quarters that he could barely see through the trees.

Captain Randolph Ashton was behind that window, and more than likely wondering if Wolf was mad. What was Wolf thinking? He didn’t owe Randolph a thing. The RAF pilot took his chances like all the rest when he entered the fray in the sky. But Wolf wasn’t thinking about Randolph at this point. He was thinking of Madeline.

It was all crazy. The notion of what he was about to do. Madeline was all over him. He hadn’t seen her in over two years. But that didn’t matter. Did he love her? How can you fall in love with a person over a three day weekend? Was that even possible? It wasn’t sensible. For all he knew, Madeline had found someone else. But what if she hadn’t? That was possible, maybe even likely.

Wolf sighed and looked both ways. It would be smarter to forget about all of this. But how could he do that? The thought of Madeline was all over him now. There was no choice.

He walked into the trees and ducked under some branches and continued toward the rear of Colonel Dunkel's quarters. Wolf found that the rear window was indeed cracked open. Wolf quietly slid the window all the way opened. He saw Randolph’s face, which was illuminated in the moonlight. Randolph stepped onto a chair and climbed out the window. After Randolph jumped, Wolf closed the window. Randolph said quietly, “I wasn’t sure if you were coming. Madeline told me that you were crazy. You’re crazy.”

“Then why did you jump out of the window?”

“Madeline said you were fearless. She was right! What if they catch you? I don’t think you’ll get a new medal for helping me escape.”

Wolf tugged on Randolph’s sleeve. “Stay close.” They moved along the tree line until they reached the end of the runway. As they passed the Me 109s Randolph said, “Do you have a match?”

“You remind me of Hans. All pilots are the same.”

“I’m not sure that was a compliment.” Randolph hesitated just for a second in front of a plane that evidently belonged to Wolf because there were five kill markings on the aircraft's rudder. “I assume this is your plane.”

“Hurry before someone sees us.”

They reached the Storch at the end of the runway. They climbed in, and Wolf fired up the engine. The engines coughed once and came to full power. Randolph smirked, “Will this thing fly?”

“Hopefully.” Wolf pointed to a parachute that was in the rear compartment. “You better see if it fits.”

The Storch took off and instead of flying northeast toward Frankfurt, Wolf banked left and headed toward the French border.

“You’re not telling me I’m jumping again.”

“It’s your ticket home. Or would you rather be on your way to a POW prison camp?”

Randolph leaned forward and put on the parachute. “Why are you doing this? You know the chances of being with her are almost zero. There’s a bloody war going on, and you’re on the wrong side. And how long do you think you’re going to survive anyway?”

“Long enough to drop you over your lines.”

Randolph laughed. “What do you see in her? She’s as tough as nails. I’m sure she’s dating up a storm.”

Wolf changed the heading of the Storch. “Is she?”

“How do I know?”

“You’re her brother. You're supposed to look out for her.”

“I am. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not right for her.”

The Storch dropped in altitude and crossed the Sedan River. Wolf turned southwest and knew Randolph would have to bail out soon. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. I could be shot down at any time.”

“Like me.”

“That wasn’t your fault. So much that happens up there is random.”

“Don’t tell that to the new recruits.”

Wolf went on, “Please don’t tell her I did this.”

“Wasn’t that the point?”

“I lost my mind for a brief moment.”

“But you’re an ace. That’s something, huh.”

“No, not enough. You’re over your lines now.”

“Right.”

“Four thousand feet.”

“Thanks.”

Randolph opened the passenger’s door. Captain Ashton shimmied out on the diagonal wing strut. Seconds later he was gone. Wolf turned the plane around and flew on to Frankfurt. The foolish thoughts of Madeline faded away.

Two days later Winston Churchill was in Paris for the most important meeting of his life. It was no understatement to say that the fate of a free Western Europe hung in the balance. History often turns and forever changes on the smallest of things. It also reverberates like a tidal wave and washes away what was and presents the world what will be. It doesn’t matter if the world is prepared for the new order. Fate doesn’t show a calling card...it steamrolls those who have their heads in the sand.

His Majesty’s new Prime Minister, Winston Churchill was at the office of the French Prime Minister, which was located in the Hotel Matignon. It was one of his first and most important endeavors since being appointed Prime Minister.

The Germans had broken through the front at Sedan, and now the Allies were in crisis. The German Panzers were racing due west toward the coast, to cut off the British Expeditionary Force that was well north of the French frontier. The majority of the massive French Army was in the same predicament. Both armies were about to be taken from the rear. That was more than a dubious result; it was an unmitigated disaster.

Outside the hotel, James and Madeline waited for the news from the meeting. In any other year, it would have been another serene and quaint spring day in The City of Lights. The shops and streets would have been full. The poets and painters would be scattered among the populace, creating and dreaming of what was to be. But none of that was true...not now.

Paris was a city on edge. Rumors were everywhere. The Germans would be in Paris by nightfall. The French government had already fallen. The government had shipped its gold reserves to America for safe keeping. The Fifth Column had stabbed France in the back.

It was Madeline’s first venture to Paris, but she also sensed that there was tension in the air. Anyone could see it...and feel it. The sidewalk cafes were somewhat empty, and it seemed that the Parisians were preoccupied with the coming maelstrom. That would be the nightmare of the vaunted Wehrmacht goose stepping up the Champs-Elysees and then under the Arc de Triomphe.

Unless the French military pulled a rabbit out of their hat, that nightmare would he upon them. And much sooner than anyone thought possible. The humiliation, in the end, would be all encompassing, and The City of Lights would go dark under Hitler’s boot.

Inside the French Prime Minister’s Office, Winston was with a small delegation of British military officials. It was evident from the start that the French high command and their Prime Minister were ready to throw in the towel. The battle had barely begun, and they thought it already lost.

The French Prime Minister, Paul Reynaud had alluded to that fact the day before when he had placed an emergency call to Winston Churchill, who was only made Prime Minister on May 10. Now a few scant days later Churchill was faced with a historic and cataclysmic collapse of Britain's most powerful ally.

The initial call the day before by Paul Reynaud had started and ended with the French Prime Minister saying, “We are beaten...all is lost.” Winston Churchill tried to calm down Reynaud and agreed to come swiftly to France the next day. And so now, here was Winston standing before what was once a great country, but at this moment in time was shaking in its boots.

The French Prime Minister asked General Maurice Gamelin to lay out the situation to Winston Churchill. “The Germans have broken through on a 50-kilometer front and have advanced more than 60 kilometers inward from Sedan.”

Winston Churchill immediately asked, “And what of the French strategic reserve?”

“We have none,” replied General Gamelin in a manner that was nonchalant and resigned to the impending defeat.

Winston was shocked. How could a country with over one million troops and 110 combat divisions be left with no contingent force to plug a hole in the line. That was more than foolhardy; it was inexcusable. Winston hesitated for a moment and said, “When will you attack the flanks of the German advance?”

Gamelin replied with a hopeless shrug and the famous words: “Inferiority of numbers, inferiority of equipment, inferiority of method.”

If General Gamelin at that moment had been under the command of Winston Churchill, he would have been summarily sacked and sent packing. Or better yet, tied to the front of a Napoleonic cannon, and then the gun would have been fired. It was obvious that the French no longer had the will to fight.

The First World War had inexorability sapped, without mercy or remorse, the beating hearts of a French generation. Many had died; more had been maimed and wounded. And now but twenty years later, France was summoned to fight again. It was too much to ask and perhaps would have been too much for anyone, no matter where they called home. There would be heroic attempts by more than a few to stem the German tide, but it wouldn’t be enough.

Prime Minister Reynaud pleaded with Churchill for more squadrons from the RAF. This crossed the final line. The British would need every plane to defend itself from the coming air war with the Luftwaffe. Winston was evasive, and the British delegation took its leave. Another meeting was scheduled, but the curtain was coming down on the great Franco-British alliance.

* * *

Winston Churchill met Madeline and James outside the Hotel Matignon. They could tell that he was in a downbeat mood. James asked, “Shall I get the car and proceed to the airfield?”

Winston said, “They’re done. I couldn’t stir their sense of patriotism or honor. We will have to go it alone for now.”

James sat down on an outdoor cafe chair. “Against the German Army?”

“There is little choice. It is either that or acquiesce to Hitler and his minions.”

“Never.”

Madeline said sadly, “France is defeated. And what about our boys?”

“Soon to be trapped. The whole lot of them.”

“Dear God,” exclaimed Madeline.

Winston said, “That is why I have already put contingency evacuations in motion. James if you will...time to go.” Winston sighed, “In happier times, I would have suggested a leisurely lunch and reminisced about my days as a young man in Paris. I would have suggested an omelet.”

“At this hour?”

“Not any omelet James, but a French omelet.”

“Well heeded Sir Winston.”

Soon James appeared with a sedan that had been provided by the British Consulate. They headed for the Paris Le Bourget Airport. A military escort cleared the way as they sped on. An RAF twin engine plane was waiting for them on the runway. As they made their way up the stairs to the plane, Winston was handed a piece of paper. He nodded and entered the plane.

Madeline and James took their seats on the converted plane. Winston was the last one to sit down. He folded the paper and put it in his coat pocket. “What’s wrong?” asked James.

Winston wistfully watched Paris fade away as the plane took off. “I have the losses from the RAF attack on Sedan. They were dreadful. They never really had a chance. Attacking a bridgehead by funneling our aircraft up a valley... just terrible. And that’s not all of it. Madeline, Captain Ashton is missing in action. They tell me the air battle was a melee of planes. He could be still alive. At least, that is the hope.”

Madeline sat back. “Or he could be dead…”

Winston didn’t say anything else. Instead, he pondered the world as it now was.
It has all started. Where and how it ends, no one truly knows
.

Wolf traded in his Storch observation plane for a full-scale ride on a Junkers 88. The twin-engine bomber picked up Wolf in Frankfurt and landed in Berlin three hours later. The first ace of the war in the West rested briefly and then was driven to the Reich Air Ministry in Berlin. The Reich Air Ministry was the largest commercial building in all of the Europe. The seven-story 112,000 square meter building had over 2800 rooms. In retrospect, it was a massive monument to the grandiose ego of Hermann Goering.

The Air Marshall thought he was special, and why not have a magnificent building to house his plaything known as the Luftwaffe. Hitler had a soft spot for the First World War ace who had climbed on the Nazi bandwagon when the movement was thought of as a backward joke, consisting of a gaggle of functional illiterates.

So Hitler let Goering indulge himself, whether it was with his fancy uniforms, self-dealing with German industry, the ripping off of art from conquered countries or the mammoth construction project that became the Reich Air Ministry.

When the fancy Mercedes staff car, adorned with shiny hubcaps and glossy black paint finally arrived at the Reich Air Ministry, Wolf Kruger was treated like a conquering hero. As soon as he stepped out of the vehicle, Wolf was met with the blinding light of Nazi propagandist cameras popping off.