Rupert Gold had stood beside him the entire time, studiously marking off each crate by serial number as it went onto the flatcars and making sure everything tallied up at the end of each night. Brandis had never seen Rupert wearing anything other than the best Savile Row suits, and he’d never expected his PA to jump in and become involved in any actual physical work — having known him for ten years, the idea alone was ludicrous — however he had to hand it to the young man that he’d taken the revelations of the incredible wealth in his stride and was dealing with it all in the same professional manner he’d always displayed when handling his employer’s affairs. His assistance in looking after the paperwork and the logistic side of things had also been invaluable, and Brandis was completely confident that he wouldn’t let him down in the days, months and years to come.
“That’s the last one, James,” Rupert advised, clipboard in hand as the pair stood at the very southern end of the platform, watching a forklift deposit the final pallet upon the final flat car. “Two thousand, five hundred and seventy-one pallets: three thousand, seven hundred long tons…” his speech faltered for a moment as he almost added ‘…of gold…’ but immediately thought better of it, instead finishing the sentence with “…in total…”
“An exceptional job done by all,” Brandis agreed with a slow nod and a wry smile. “Nice save, by the way…” he added, knowing full well what the man had almost said. “Make sure they all get a ten percent bonus in their pay packets tomorrow.” He clapped a friendly hand on his assistant’s shoulder. “You take off now if you like — there may be a club still open that’s got some chilled chardonnay on hand.”
“Bed for me Old Chap, thank you very much,” Rupert replied with an obviously tired smile. “Not an ounce of energy left within me.”
“Don’t bother coming in tomorrow morning,” Brandis directed generously. “Have a sleep in and enjoy the day — we’ve got that meeting at Whitehall in the evening, but I shan’t need you before then. See you back at the warehouse at… say… three in the afternoon? We can head off together from there — should be plenty of time to perhaps get a light meal and a quick drink before everyone gets down to business.”
“Thank you, James… I do appreciate it.” A sincere tone crept into Rupert’s voice for a moment. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me over the years… I truly mean that.”
“You must be tired, getting all serious on me now!” Brandis smiled kindly, deflecting the honest thanks with humour. “Get out of here and get some sleep!”
With a single nod and a smile of his own, Rupert Gold turned and walked briskly off toward the northern end of the platform, nimbly threading his way around forklifts and through the clusters of workmen as the rest gathered about in preparation of their own departure in search of home and a warm, comfortable bed. James Brandis watched the man leave and sighed deeply, also feeling dog-tired but knowing there was still work to be done as a shunter moved up to draw out the ten previously loaded flat cars and couple them up to the second ten that had just been completed.
A small goods car would be attached to the rear of the train that would carry a trio of military police officers armed with submachine guns. Two more were tasked with riding in the cab with the driver and crew, ensuring there were guards at each end of the train for the entire journey. Brandis would get a few hours sleep on the trip across to Liverpool before catching another train back to London in the morning for his meeting with the Prime Minister. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes before rousing himself from his semi-stupor and heading off down the platform himself.
12. Ultima Ratio Regum
Royal Marine Siege Regiment
St Margaret’s-at-Cliffe (near Dover)
Thursday
August 15, 1940
As was the case following the German victories in France and the Netherlands during the Realtime war, England was faced with the unpleasant reality of squaring off at the Straits of Dover against a powerful and determined enemy across thirty-four kilometres of English Channel. One danger that was quick to arise was that of cross-channel guns, and it was only a few months after Dunkirk that Batterie Seigfried became operational at Cap-Gris-Nez, its 38cm guns well within range of Dover and a substantial section of the Kent coast.
More were to follow in Realtime, with installations being completed right along the nearest sections of the French coast that included Batterie Friedrich August (three 30.5cm guns at Boulogne-sur-Mer), Batterie Todt (four more 38cm guns at Wissant), Batterie Grosser Kurfurst (also at Cap-Gris-Nez with four 28cm guns), and Batterie Prinz Heinrich and Oldenburg (both at Calais with two 21cm guns apiece). These weapons were also complemented by a trio of 28cm K5 railway guns accurate enough to engage shipping in The Channel in addition to land bombardment. In Realtime, these would’ve later been joined by Batterie Lindemann at Cap-Blanc-Nez, armed with three of the huge 406mm ‘Adolf Guns’ left over from Germany’s aborted ‘H-Class’ battleship program.
Britain’s Realtime answer to the German guns had begun with the commissioning of two 14-inch (356mm) Mk VII guns left over from the development of the King George V battleship class. Nicknamed ‘Winnie’ and ‘Pooh’, these guns were intended as counter-battery weapons that proved to be far too slow and inaccurate to take on enemy shipping, although they were nevertheless adequate in their intended bombardment role. These would be followed into service in the Dover area by a variety of British guns that ranged from six inches (152mm) up to 15 inches (381mm), the latter intended to be used primarily against enemy shipping although able to assist in a counter-battery role if required.
RAF air superiority throughout the Realtime Battle of Britain meant these gun emplacements were relatively safe from aerial attack (although this wasn’t to say that the Luftwaffe didn’t indeed make some serious efforts to destroy them). This time however, the RAF had been all but eliminated as a fighting force by the end of July 1940, and there was therefore nothing to stop enemy aircraft from bombing any British coastal battery into the history books before anything managed to become operational. Both ‘Winnie’ and ‘Pooh’ had been destroyed in exactly that fashion within days of construction commencing on their emplacements, and most of the remaining gun batteries along the Kent coast (save for some very lucky and very well camouflaged exceptions) had fallen to the same fate.
Across the water in France, the Realtime ‘Adolf Guns’ would never exist now other than in the memories of a very select few on either side, however the danger of cross-channel bombardment nevertheless remained a very real threat. With no likelihood of any static heavy artillery battery ever lasting long enough to enter service, the British were forced to resort to other means to affect some limited ability for retaliation to the increasing level of bombardment that had begun from France since the beginning of July.
The War Ministry had instead resorted to the use of heavy railway artillery that could be kept mobile and therefore, theoretically at least, remained less vulnerable to air attack: weapons that had also existed in Realtime. During the First World War, the Royal Artillery Regiments had made use of several types, including some mounted with 14-inch naval guns. The barrels of these were scrapped during the inter-war years, however the rail mountings still remained in reserve, and in 1939 the decision was made to return them to operational service.