Folks,

At last, the final chapter of Zerosan2's monumental story of what might have been. Has this scenario ever been made into a board or computer game?

Sealion
By: Zerosan2(the magnificent)
HWH Continued
Page 85
9/16/04

PART TWELVE
It might have happened this way.

11.18hrs, 9th October 1940

A victory of sorts

One Leutnant Niemeyer, of 119th Infantry Regiment, 24th Infantry Division, surveyed the receding shoreline off Folkestone from the navy packet “Rasten”. A huge pall of black smoke rose from the town high into the overcast sky. Over his head, a Bf109 shot past at barely 100ft, curving round over the town and disappearing away to the north. Barely audible now from the shore came the intermittent crackle of small arms fire and the occasion dull thud of a grenade or mortar round.

To his regiment had fallen the less than welcome honour of providing the rearguard in the town, as the last of the division embarked upon transport home. Less than half the division now remained, and straws had been drawn to decide which battalion would stay. Luckily for him, it had not been his.

Similar scenes had been enacted up the coast of England for the last few days.
Ramsgate and Hastings on the 7th, Dover the previous day. Deal and Folkstone this morning.
Operation Sealion was over.

The first days of October had been fraught. The weather had worsened, though brief spells of fine weather had helped. Throughout these days the Germans fought with great skill and bravery, accepting British penetrations then counter-attacking over-extended or ill advised advances, conserving ammunition and moving in only the most efficient way possible.

The first battle following the decision of late September had been for Maidstone as the British attempted to push the Germans away from London. Inexperience had caused substantial losses to the British, but the Germans in the end had little choice but to shrink their enclave under increasing pressure and supply problems.

From the 3rd October, troops had begun to be taken off, and Luftwaffe efforts turned solely to providing air support where it was most needed, over the evacuation lanes and over the eastern end of the lodgement. By 6th October, the Germans controlled only a strip of shoreline between Eastbourne and Whitstable, via Ashford and Canterbury.

The trapped 9th Army had little hope. Half hearted attempts were made to supply it by air as the weather allowed, but the weight of supply that could be bought in far outweighed the losses in aircraft, both to enemy action and accidents.

The biggest problem was ammunition. An attempt to break out was made on the 3rd, but with little air and no artillery support and no help from the 16th Army who were now concerned with securing their own perimeter, failure against the strong British positions was predictable. Still, the 9th Army continued to hold out, beating off numerous British attacks for another week. The pocket surrendered on the 10th October, the day after the last of the 16th Army had left.
77,655 prisoners were taken here alone.

Across much of South East England, huge amounts of equipment was abandoned by the Germans, in much the same way as the British had been forced to do in France 5 months earlier. Artillery pieces, tanks, trucks, anti-tank weapons, motor cycles, engineering equipment, stores. Most towns had fields that resembled some ad-hoc military surplus auction since most of the equipment was undamaged.

The towns themselves had suffered grievously. The Germans had destroyed anything of military or economic value if at all possible. Factories, shops, farm machinery, bridges, mills, power stations, telephone exchanges. Battle damage was heavy due to the population density in the region, and many homes had been destroyed or made uninhabitable.

Shipping losses had been crippling to the German effort. In the same way it had hampered supply in the previous weeks, so it now restricted the amount of men that could be rescued. The Royal Navy remained active in the straits in periods of bad weather, sinking many a ship full of hopeful evacuees thinking they had been rescued. In the end, the Germans could only take off about half the number that they had put ashore, with many units acting rearguard in inland towns to delay the advancing and retributive British.

The final large land battle had been for Ashford. The Germans held on to it until the last minute since to give it up would threaten both Dover and Folkestone, the principle embarkation ports. Again, its was the 78th Infantry Division who had performed this task, holding out against overwhelming odds, until surrounded and out off ammunition, they surrendered on the 9th October. But not before inflicting grave casualties on their long term adversary, the 45th Division of the British XII Corps.

The population of Britain began to learn of the victory in snatches from the guarded radio broadcasts and less modest reports in the newspapers. Confidence began to return and order was being restored, at least in the areas outside the South east. Many families returning to their destroyed or burnt out homes were thankful to still be alive, but there were few families who hadn’t lost someone. It had been a short but particularly savage campaign that reflected the importance of what was at stake for both sides.

In twenty days of fighting, British losses were estimated at 41,000 citizens dead or missing, soldiers, sailors, airman and civilians. At least 3 times that number were wounded and probably 2 million were now homeless.

The Royal Navy had suffered dreadfully. No less than 22 destroyers, 8 cruisers and 3 capital ships sunk or permanently out of action, with many more damaged. Against this though, the Admiralty were sure that the Kreigsmarine had been virtually destroyed, and in this they were correct.

The RAF had been halved in size, though it remained in being, testament to the fierce struggle for superiority in the air that whilst in doubt cast the shadow of failure over the enemy’s endeavour. The British Army was bloodied but unbowed. Whole battalions had been wiped from its order of battle, but by surviving the storm, by remaining at its posts, it had assured the country of freedom.

At least half of all the industry in the south had been destroyed and what remained had no power.
Railways had been largely destroyed, and the coastal towns and ports were all but unusable.
It was a shocking mess, of a kind the British people had never before seen. It would takes months to clear up and years to recover. But it hardened their hearts.

German losses were less easy to quantify. In military terms, they had lost the larger part of two whole armies. But this was probably less than 10% of their available manpower strength.
Actual casualties were put at 29,000 dead and missing, 62,000 wounded and no less than 117,000 prisoners. The Navy had virtually no surface strength left.

The Lufwaffe was reduced to a burned out shell of its former self. Much rest, recuperation and replacement aircraft would be needed before it could resume offensive operations again.
In material terms, the losses could be more than made up, but the damage to Nazi prestige was awesome. In the west Hitler was, for the meantime at least, impotent. And his long cherished ambitions in the East would now have to be postponed for the immediate future. If it was not the most serious defeat he would suffer, it was probably the most damaging.

Churchill broadcast to his people on the 11th October. He promised them deliverance and this, with the help of them all, had been achieved. He promised them revenge, thought the months would turn into years before this could be realised. He promised them victory, though in his heart he knew that without the help of the USA, this was a forlorn treaty.

But above all, he offered them hope. They had come through this, their hour of gravest crises, when it seemed as if Britain were doomed. They had fought hard and true and in the event, the grit, and in many cases luck, had been on their side.

Much more hard fighting lay ahead. There would, and he had to be honest enough to tell them, be much more suffering before it was over. But now he was sure that in the longer term, with friends good and true, the victory of good could be the only final result.

Brauchitsch, Chief of the Army General Staff, stood in front of Halders desk. The two men were old friends and even the moments of stretched humour could not disguise the tension of the visit.
Eventually, both fell silent, their eyes falling to the envelope that Brauchisch had placed on Halders desk, the seal of the Fuhrer clearly visible.

They both knew what was contained in it. “I suppose I always wanted more time to tend the roses” smiled Halder The Chief of staff smiled. They both knew that this was not Halders responsibility alone, and yet they both knew what was expected. Their master was not in the habit of forgiveness for failure. “There will be other days” replied Brauchitsch, quietly. Halder nodded. “And other wars” It was a letter that could not be answered.

Across southern England, the birds could now be heard singing again. The weather deteriorated into a murky British winter and the days shortened so that it was dark before 5pm. Britain was still free. Like a Boxer who had taken a beating, she stood, swaying slightly on her feet. She knew she couldn’t match the weight of her opponent and had fought a waiting match. She had suffered a good many serious blows, blows that those watching were sure she must not get up from. Yet each time she did, focused on dodging the next one, waiting for each bell.

She had calculated her only chance, she knew her opportunity would come only once. In the eleventh round, she had delivered that blow, strong and belaying her size, on target, enough to take her opponent off balance. It was only the first of many return fights, but by failing to be knocked out in the first match, she would live to fight again. She would learn how to fight better next time, train herself better, make herself fitter and able to go that distance, the distance that victory required. And those watching saw her courage. And they resolved that if they were to climb into the ring themselves, they would rather be with her than anyone else.

Bodies floated in the surf, the swell gently lapping at the rotting uniforms and decaying flesh. Many reminders continued to be found for months afterwards. And the Germans didn’t use Mrs Browns potting shed as a machine gun post. It was a grave. The human cost of war remains long after the victory is won.

There was a knocked out tank at the bottom of Cheltons field that was still there in the 1960s. Now the tank has gone, forgotten, one more memorial to the troubled past swept away to be replaced with another Hypermarket car park.

Back then, the kids played on it because we didn’t have health and safety rules to stop them having fun and no-one ever got sued for accidents. That sort of thing was accepted as one of life's risks back then. In the same way that it was accepted that, sometimes, you have to fight for what you believe in.

The End.