- The author does not own nor has any claim over Miraculous: Adventures of Ladybug and Chat Noir, it's characters or elements.
- This tale does not intend to be a history lesson. Author's bibliography on Winston Churchill and WWII will be post at the end of the story.
- Please enjoy. Opinions more than welcomed.
The light didn't went out at 10 Downing Street that day.
"Let's find someone, dear Nooroo."
"Winston, it's almost midnight."
The man didn't listen to the kwami complain, walking around the small, dim-lighted room, making the white butterflies fly everywhere.
"Can we empower Stephenson*? I gave him the three most crucial goals at this stage: Get military aid for Britain; counter Enemy Intelligence in the Western Hemisphere; bring the United States to the War. He will need every ounce of assistance one can provide."
"We can't target one individual in particular, you know."
"So, I shall trust in a mere man. Competent, but a mere man."
Nooroo was busy filling up his dropper on Winston's whisky, before ingesting the liquid and smiling.
"Everybody's in Britain is, Winston."
"Not everybody, purple djinn. The Tories don't trust me. In fact, they believe I will fall in the first war challenge."
"I know. That Eckersley** fellow said you will not last five months."
"We'll prove them wrong."
It was three in the morning when the new Prime-Minister of Britain finally went to bed.
*William Stephenson, a senior intelligence officer Winston Churchill sent to the United States
**Peter Eckersley, a Tory (conservative) Member of Parliament, following his party opinion on Churchill at the beginning of his government.
MAY 26TH, 1940
Nooroo shook his head, reading the telegram as Churchill talked on the phone. The challenge came quicker than both would expect. The same day Winston was sworn Prime-Minister, the enemy forces invaded France in two different places, destroying the allied armies in their patch. Yesterday, Boulogne felt. And now… Nooroo drunk from his dropper.
"Yes, my diminutive friend. They took Calais." A sad Winston said. "Our lads, and the remaining from French and Belgian armies are trapped around Dunkirk."
Nooroo flew to a map.
"Are we really doing that thing you discussed last week?"
"Yes. Wings, rise."
One can count on their hands the amount of people who know about operation Dynamo. Important military officials. High government members. And Raymond Patel. A mere radio operator. A night-shift radio operator. Even doing the minimum effort for saving the troops were, therefore, denied to him. He thinks about everything that could go wrong. He looked to his pen, a freebie from the beach hotel of his honeymoon, with the figure of Neptune. Yes, he could make this attack go smooth or badly. Just one change on the weather, and… And there are other possibilities, a rapid attack from the enemy, lack of communication between boats, a, a… He was so worried he didn't noticed a white butterfly approaching his pen and fusing itself with it, until a powerful voice overcame his thoughts.
"English Channeler, I am Red Admiral."
Winston Churchill could see them through English Channeler eyes.
Fred Williams, whose fishing boat was its sole possession. Sure, it was an old thing, in dire need of repairs, its engine coughing up irregular noises, smoking, leaving a trail of fluids behind itself on the sea. And still going forward.
Norman Fairfax III, whose elegant yacht is a witness of a family fortune older than many countries. In a couple of years, Norman intend to change this boat for a newer one. Larger, more modern, more luxurious than his peers'. Until the day they upgrade, too, and the cycle starts again.
Today, those two men have the same mission. Today, they are the same. Brothers. Busy transporting soldiers from the Dunkirk lands to the large military vessels on deeper waters. Some transport the men all the way back to England. Doing the same that hundreds of other civilian boats were doing at Operation Dynamo. Nearby, hundreds of soldiers run through a very narrow mole to the waiting war boat. Desperate ways to save their lives. Save the military of a whole country. A whole empire.
Later, surrounded by friends, both Norman and Fred will tell stories of that day. The gratitude of soldiers. The instant fellowship.
And how they though they say a gigantic poseidonic figure calming the waters, keeping enemy ships away and granting them a safe voyage.
Back on Downing Street, an exhausted Nooroo felt on the ground.
"We… we are doing it, Winston."
"This is not even the beginning, Nooroo. Perhaps, the start of the beginning." The Prime-minister thought for aa while, before writing the phrase down "let me save this for later. For now, lets continue. Even without the help of English Channeler."
JUNE 4TH, 1940
"338,226 people, Winston" Nooroo was trying to remove the cork of a Champaign by himself, without luck. "Operation Dynamo saved 338,226 people. The whole of British Expeditionary Force, plus some French divisions."
"Wars are not won by evacuations, Nooroo. All our vehicles and heavy weaponry now lies abandoned on French occupied soil."
"But there's a victory inside this deliverance. 338 thousand saved, Winston."
"Say that again."
"I said your leadership saved…"
"No, before that. 'There was a victory inside this deliverance' I can use that." The man wrote some lines on a piece of paper.
"You are starting to rub on me" The kwami looked at his dropper "In more than one way. Is that a speech?" he asked, looking at the papers.
"Yes, I must tell the parliament and the nation about Dunkirk."
Nooroo float around the papers, stoping at the end and reading out loud:
"'Even though large tracts of Europe and many old and famous States have fallen or may fall into the grip of the Gestapo and all the odious apparatus of Nazi rule, we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender…' that's powerful, Winston. Inspiring."
"And we will fight them with the butt end of broken beer bottles because that's bloody well all we got!" sighed Churchill.
"Huh… I'd advise letting that last part out."
Winston thought a little and lighten up a cigar, and let a sad smile out.
"Fear not, Nooroo. Nobody on Earth is so skilled on broken bottle fights than the British."
He got up, put the speech on his briefcase and showed his intern pocket.
"Let's go, pint-sized companion. We have an Empire to save."
I am trying hard to bring down the number of my abandoned tales to zero. "Who Killed Trixie?" has only two chapters to go, and I found a way to end this one in also two or three instalments. But I am really wanted to know what you think of this one. It is taking a lot of research, and I am trying to be fair to one of my favorite History figure. So… how's it? Thanks in advance
