The Iron Storm CW Browning (moboreader .TXT) 📖

Rob sputtered behind his newspaper. “Much better, young Colonial,” he approved. “And I have no idea how we “lucked out,” as you put it. Perhaps Ashmore wanted to give the new chicks a taste of real life.”

“More like he wanted to get them up and down before the fun starts,” Rob said, lowering the newspaper with a rustle and tossing it aside. “What a lot of blasted nonsense. We still don’t know what’s happening with Chamberlain. According to that rag, he’s still hanging on.”

Miles opened his mouth to respond but never got the chance. Slippy rushed into the room, looking around frantically. Spotting them, he barreled across the room to the trio by the fireplace.

“My God!” he gasped, skidding to a stop beside Miles. “They’ve invaded Belgium!”

“What?!” Miles sat straight up, staring at him. “When?”

“Today. This morning. Now.” Slippy looked around, trying to catch his breath. “I ran all the way from the Mess. One of the flight crew sergeants heard it. Where’s the bloody radio?”

“Over there,” Chris said, motioning to the back corner. “For reasons known only to himself, the porter moved it.”

Slippy spun around and strode across the large room to turn on the radio. Miles glanced at Rob and stood up, sliding one hand into his pocket and following, his cigarette between the long fingers of his other hand. Chris jumped up and looked at Rob.

“Aren’t you coming?” he asked.

“And join the parade? I can hear just as well right here, thank you.”

Chris shrugged and followed Miles to where Slippy was already tuning the large, standup radio.

“Where’s Rob?” Miles asked, looking behind him.

“He says he doesn’t want to be part of the circus and he can hear just fine where he is.”

Miles snorted. “He’ll be along soon enough,” he predicted.

“Aha!” Slippy crowed as the static disappeared and the BBC news came through the speaker. “Here it is.”

“This is BBC home service, interrupting with an update to the news. At four o’clock this morning, German forces crossed the borders into Holland, Belgium and Luxembourg, beginning an invasion that is undoubtedly meant to lead them into France. The attack came without warning. The German Luftwaffe led the charge, dropping bombs on bridges, roads, and railway tracks throughout Holland and Belgium. Brussels was hit, as well as airfields and communication centers.” The announcer was solemn and his voice captured the attention of everyone in the room. “German paratroopers were deployed and a fierce battle is underway for Fort Eben-Emael after enemy troops landed inside the Belgian fort. The fort is the most heavily fortified on the Belgian border and its possible capture will deal a huge blow to the Belgian defenses. In Holland, Rotterdam is under attack from both the Luftwaffe and the German Army. The enemy has penetrated as far south as Luxembourg. With the royal family and most of the advisors already in France, Luxembourg is showing little resistance and it is expected that German forces will soon be approaching the French border. As the Luftwaffe bombs Holland and Belgium relentlessly, the Allied forces, led by the British Expeditionary Force, are moving through Belgium to meet the main thrust of the German invasion. Now here is a word from our sponsors.”

Miles stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray sitting on top of the radio and glanced at Chris and Slippy. They were silent for a minute.

“So it’s finally begun.” Rob was the first to break the silence from across the room. He got up and walked over to join the group near the radio. “The little corporal is finally moving to take France.”

“You don’t really think he’ll get there, do you?” Chris demanded. “Your entire army is over there with the French. They’ll hold him back, won’t they?”

“Not our entire Army, Chris,” Miles said quietly. “A chunk of it is still tied up in Norway.”

“So much for the military wisdom of the people who said Hitler didn’t have the resources to fight a war on two fronts,” Rob said. “Apparently he does.”

“If they’ve already taken Eben-Emael, Belgium is in a bad spot.” Slippy patted his pockets, looking for his cigarettes. “Isn’t that their prize defense? Didn’t they say that could never be breached?”

“I don’t think they counted on paratroopers.” Chris held out his cigarette case and Slippy took one with a nod of thanks. “They actually landed inside? Has that ever been done?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” Rob said, shaking his head. “If it’s true, then the fort is already lost.”

“And they’re bombing ahead of the army.” Miles rubbed his eyes and turned to go back to his chair by the fireplace. “It’s what they did in Poland. Blitzkrieg, they call it.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Chris demanded. “I don’t speak Kraut.”

“Lightning war,” Rob told him, turning to follow Miles. “Their air force knocks out all communication and transport lines while their army moves in rapidly behind them under cover of the air power.”

“Air power? Well, can’t we just send fighters up to take care of the bombers?” Chris asked, following.

“I’m sure that’s what our squadrons in France are doing right now,” Miles said, dropping into his armchair. “There aren’t nearly enough of them, though.”

“What about the French air force? They’re there.”

“Yes, but they have outdated airplanes.” Rob rubbed his face. “God I wish I was over there! I’ll back a Spitfire against the 109s any day!”

“Agreed. But we’re not there. We’re here.” Miles stared into the empty hearth. “There’s nothing we can do from here except make sure they don’t cross the channel.”

Chris looked startled. “Do you think it will come to that?”

“What? Them crossing the channel?” Rob lowered his hands and glanced at Chris. “Well you don’t think they’ll get to France and just stop for the wine, do you?”

“But no one’s ever crossed the channel successfully!” Chris pointed out. “Why would they think they can?”

“Allow me to give you a brief lesson in our history, Yank,” Rob drawled. “Someone did indeed cross the channel. It was in 1066 and was led by the Duke of