General Clay pushed the top photo aside, revealing another. “These show a number of inlets in Zeeland, in southern Holland. You see more of the same barges.” He brought up another photograph. The image was partly obscured by clouds. “We believe this photo shows the German navy’s new Marinefährprähme, a special landing craft they have been mass producing for half a year.”
“You mentioned barges. You mean the type that ply the European canals?”
“The same. The Kriegsmarine has requisitioned tugs, motor vessels, trawlers, lighters, and launches from throughout Europe. At least five thousand vessels. It has virtually paralyzed canal, coastal, and fishing traffic, seriously reducing trade with the Baltic and shipment of supplies to Norway. The withdrawal of merchant ships, especially coal and iron ships, has impaired ore imports from Sweden. We believe that collecting and adapting invasion vessels has put such a severe strain on the Germans’ limited shipyard facilities that almost all other naval construction has come to a standstill.”
“I worked on barges on the Mississippi as a lad, Wilson. They wouldn’t seem to be the ideal landing craft.”
“The Germans are modifying them.” He returned briefly to the file cabinet, then placed a six-by-eight photo in front of the senator. “The bow of the barge you see here has been replaced with a collapsible ramp, which will act as both a sally-port and a gangway for men and vehicles. Some have been given a concrete deck for carrying tanks. These barges have a loading capacity of five to eight hundred tons and a draught of six feet. Most of them are not self-propelled, but will rely on tugs.”
“This is a remarkable photo. Good clear shot, like someone just held up a Brownie and snapped it. Who took it and how did it get back to England?” The senator had left most of his Southern accent in the States.
“I wasn’t told,” Clay smiled briefly. Longley undoubtedly wanted a few war stories to take back home. During the Great War he had served as a typist at a Navy Reserve base in New Orleans.
“All these barges and ships are in Holland?” he asked.
“Not at all.” The general pulled the curtain cord to display a map. He drew an arc from the North Sea to the English Channel. “Kriegsmarine HQ Coblenz and HQ Rotterdam have clogged these estuaries in north Germany, the Elbe, Weser, and Ems, and the bays and river outlets in Holland and Belgium. Antwerp, Rotterdam, along here to the Seine. We estimate that the Kriegsmarine has a million and a quarter sea-going tons ready for the crossing.”
“What’s this one show?” Senator Longley asked.
“An assembly area near Amsterdam, an enormous staging area.”
The general bent lower over the desk. “We think those are Krauss-Maffei half-tracks, which carry troops and can haul AA guns. This line of vehicles here at the south end of the area are Panzerjäger, which are self-propelled guns, tank hunters.”
The senator flipped through photograph after photograph, each showing a concentration of war materiel. Tanks, armored cars, artillery tractors, trucks, scout cars. Howitzers, antiaircraft guns, prefabricated huts, bulldozers, and excavators. Enormous stockpiles of food, clothing, and medical supplies. Horses and bicycles.
General Clay said, “Those little things that look like bumps are tents for Wehrmacht and Waffen SS troops.”
Other photos showed row after row of tents, perfectly aligned grids. Churchill estimated there were half a million men waiting to cross. The impression from the photos was of the enormity of the German invasion effort, and of its perfect, methodical order. Men and materiel cluttered the coasts of Germany, Belgium, Holland, and France. The photos bristled with the imminent danger. The coastland seemed about to sink under the weight of it all.
The general lifted another photograph. “And here we see a large encampment under construction, this one in Zeeland. Here’s a photo of another, near Bruges in Belgium. The square within a square in each of the shots is a fence within a fence. Note the small buildings at the corners. The bastard German is building POW camps for British and American soldiers. He plans on his ships and barges being full of men both ways.”
Senator Longley stared at the photos without comment. His face had lost its practiced composure. Finally he gathered up the photos and handed them to the general. “Quite an eye-opener, those photos.”
“Not eye-opening enough, I’m afraid. Most of these are dated. The Luftwaffe is heavily patrolling the coast, looking for our recon planes. This past week we lost three high-altitude recon De Havilands out of four attempts. Our ability to obtain air reconnaissance has been almost eliminated.”
Clay returned the folders to the cabinet. When he turned again to Senator Longley he said, “We know they are coming, Lawton, simply because it is impossible to hide an operation of this size. The Germans know it, and so do we. The surprise will be when and where they come.”
“What’s your best guess when?”
“I thought they’d try it thirty days ago and was proven wrong.” The general remained standing. “The tides weren’t perfect, but the Allies were much less prepared than now. I thought the Germans would accept that trade-off.”
“What’s your next guess?”
“The enemy will make the crossing at night so darkness will conceal the strength and direction of their attacks. The German will want about an hour of daylight prior to the amphibious assault to complete air and naval bombardments. He wants a moon for airborne assaults. Whether he’ll come at high or low tide is a matter of heated controversy here, but I think it’ll be high tide. So we believe the enemy must land at or just after dawn and at or about high tide. These conditions exist for only a week in any given lunar month. We’re in this month’s critical period now.”
The general returned to his map. “Tides for landing in Norfolk, which is the county here above London on the east coast, become suitable five days later than they are for landing in Sussex, here on the south coast. Three days ago Sussex was ripe. Now it’s the east coast’s turn to be nervous.”
Lieutenant Paley pushed open the door. “The prime minister has just arrived, General. He’s in his quarters and will be in the cabinet room in a few moments.”
Clay glanced at Paley. “He can wait a moment until my briefing of Senator Longley is complete.”
I swear the senator flushed with pleasure. Longley had met his political match in the general.
“Finally, Lawton, there’s another reason we know they are invading. Hitler has insolently announced it to the public. Three months ago, at the tenth Winter Relief campaign at the Sportspalast, Hitler, with great zest and confidence, yelled over the public address system, ‘Wir fahren gegen England.’ His audience, mostly nurses and social workers, applauded hysterically.”
Senator Longley rose and patted the general on the back, one campaigner bucking up another for the task ahead. “I won’t have you keeping Churchill long. I’ll relay to the president and my committee members all you’ve said, Wilson.” He stepped to the door. “Remember, I’m behind you.”
The general took the proffered hand in both his. “I know you are, Lawton. Winston and I are counting on your support.”
Another gratified grin from the senator, then Lieutenant Paley escorted him down the hall.
General Clay looked at me. “‘Winston and I are counting on you.’ Christ on a crutch, you’d think the senior senator from Louisiana would know bullshit when he’s standing in a bucket of it.” He squared his black tie. “Let’s go hear more bad news.”