Speculation

"This is the BBC News Service..."

Those words brought hope to the millions trapped under German occupation. Each night, radios removed from hiding places under floorboards, behind walls, or in attics were tuned to the BBC. Broadcasts first brought news of despair. Blitzkreig, surrender, bombings. Massive losses in the oceans. Reprisals. Mass deportations and murder. And then, incremental words of hope. The Battle of Britain. The Eastern Front. Lend Lease, the entrance of the United States and the Soviet Union, The Battle of the Atlantic. Luffwaffe losses, the Italian surrender. Now the troops were heading up the boot of Italy and listeners, including thousands of POWs who jury-rigged their own radios and hid them from their jailers, eagerly awaited news of the invasion.

May 17, 1944

"Now as for today's taking of the great Abbey of Monte Cassino on Monastery Hill, this was an enormously hard-won triumph for Polish troops against an enemy…."

The men in Barracks 6 had their own radio, and tonight they were listening to Godfrey Talbot.

"Those BBC announcers all sound alike," Foster quipped.

"I think they all came from the same English boarding school." Baker stretched over the edge of the chair and then yawned. "Wish they had invasion news."

"Probably not to the very last minute. Don't want the Germans getting wind of it. It's got to be Calais. That's the most logical place, isn't it? Shortest distance." Foster threw down his hand. "I'm out." He sat back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. His eyes glanced at McMahon's hand. The weather forecaster was having a run of good luck, the table in front of him filled with cigarettes, chocolate, and the assortment of items bored POW's used as ante.

All of the POW's in camp, and the German guards for that matter, knew that an invasion was imminent. When and where…that was the question, and that question was the major topic of discussion in all the barracks.

"If they're smart, the Allies will hit another area." McMahon had the penultimate poker face. He waited for Mitchell to make a decision. "The Germans will be expecting us to land in Calais."

The captain put down his hand face-up. "Call."

"Well, I can tell you that England is one big army camp." This observation came from Sergeant William Larsen, a recently shot-down American just assigned to this barracks. "Surprised the island hasn't sunk from the weight of all that extra equipment." That quip brought forth some smiles and chuckles from the residents. The game now ended as McMahon, as usual, raked in his spoils.

"So, Larsen. How about filling us in?" asked a private.

Larsen thought for a moment. He looked at Mitchell for permission.

"Go ahead. The hut is clean. But, orders are to keep this talk inside. No speculating in the compound."

"I told you I was on a raid over northern France when I was shot down," Larsen said. "They're bombing everywhere. Not sure why we would waste energy hitting railroad tracks, roads, you know what I mean…softening things up in that area. And I kept hearing Calais being whispered around all over the place. Lots of troops in the southeast. When I wasn't flying, I was restricted to base, so I don't know what the buildup is in other parts."

"That new guy from Kent over in Barracks 8 told me he heard there was a buildup up near Edinburgh," Baker said.

"Maybe they are planning on hitting Norway? An extra front. Keep the Krauts busy." Foster finished wrapping up the decks of cards and put them away. "All I know is the channel is so choppy. Don't envy any of those guys; getting sick all the way over."

"Well, the weather is a factor, of course, "explained McMahon. "They may have a short window."

"Don't envy any of 'em," Baker added. "The guys storming the beaches, the guys in the air. Hitler's got a huge line of defenses set up. I have to go relieve Kinch."

"It all boils down to surprise," Mitchell explained as Baker disappeared into the hut's tunnel entrance.

HhHhH

Unsurprisingly, the men in Barracks 2 were conducting the same conversation.

"The way I figure it, it's going to be Calais," Carter explained.

"Why?" Newkirk asked. "Seems too obvious."

"That's exactly the point, Newkirk. It is obvious. So the Germans wouldn't think we would be dumb enough to land there. So why not double-trick them. They think we're landing somewhere else; they send more troops to…help me out LeBeau."

LeBeau shrugged. "Bretagne."

"Right. Say it's Bretagne. But, guess what? We do land in Calais. Catch them by surprise. And that's the shortest route into Germany."

The opening bunk entrance interrupted the conversation, revealing both Kinch and a visibly tired Hogan.

"Any word, Colonel?" asked Olsen.

"Nothing." Hogan walked over to the stove and poured himself a mug of coffee. Meanwhile, Kinch hopped up on his bunk. "They're silent. It's like we are on standby. Orders are to continue our operation as per usual, and definitely not to mention the invasion over the radio. That's asking for a court-martial. And no talking about it outside of the huts," he reminded the men.

"Carter's got one of his wacky theories. It's going to happen in Calais, because they expect it to be there. Psyching out the Jerries. That's asking for trouble if you ask me." Newkirk immediately regretted his tattling when Carter glared at him.

"There's no point in speculating where or when," Hogan explained. He took a sip of the coffee and leaned up against a bunk. His men were anxious and stressed, reasonable under the circumstances. In fact, the entire camp was on edge. He decided to lighten the mood. Chuckling, he said, "well, I don't usually share such private information, but I had a really weird dream last night."

"Blond, brunette or redhead, sir?" Newkirk quipped. "Or maybe it involved a steak?"

"None of those." Hogan replied. "So, first of all, it's a bit sketchy, but this is what I remember. I got called to London. Not for good. They flew me out for a meeting and then back again the same night."

"That's absurd, Colonel." Kinch thought for a moment. "Or at least I think it is. They haven't offered, have they?"

"Of course not. Too risky. What if I couldn't make it back? If they had something that secret to tell me, they'd parachute someone in. So, I met with this general, who looked exactly like Tillman, and he showed me a map of the invasion sites." Hogan waited for the reaction. "Pipe down. I don't remember, and anyway, he told me to forget what I saw."

"Not likely," Newkirk said with a grin.

"I was given a mission. Confuse the German high command. They were meeting here to discuss strategy."

"Well, that's not exactly far-fetched, sir."

"True, Goldman. There was a woman involved there somewhere, but I forget where. And I managed to convince them that Klink was put in charge by Hitler."

"Ah. He didn't know what to do, and the invasion was a success!"

"Right you are, LeBeau. Wish it were true, but in terms of our mission, we are really out of the picture for now."

LeBeau sighed. "Our resistance will work hard to make sure the invasion is a success." Like other prisoners from occupied countries, LeBeau was anxious, stressed and wishing he could do more. All they could do now was wait in anticipation.


radio transcription from: archive details / 1944RadioNews

I decided to make the canon episode D-Day at Stalag 13 a dream sequence, because it is 1) totally implausible and 2) it really didn't fit it with my plot...I apologize if it's corny.