Avenging Steel 4: The Tree of Liberty Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living, dead or undead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016. Ian Hall. Phantom Gavel Publishing; Smashwords Edition.

  Published by Ian Hall at Smashwords

  ISBN- 9781370141456

  All rights reserved, and the author reserves the right to re-produce this book, or parts thereof, in any way whatsoever.

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  Avenging Steel

  4: The Tree of Liberty

  Ian Hall

  (From The Tree of Liberty)

  By her inspired the new born race

  Soon grew the Avenging Steel, man;

  The hirelings ran — her foes gied chase

  And banged the despot weel, man.

  Robert Burns (1759 – 1796)

  Cover Photo:

  Also by Ian Hall, related to Avenging Steel…

  Churchill’s Secret Armies

  War without Rules:

  Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare

  A short history of the secret departments and Special Forces put together by Winston Churchill in World War 2.

  WW2 Spy School:

  The Complete 1943 S. O. E. Counter Espionage Manual

  The complete SOE manual used in World War 2 to train Allied spies and counter-espionage agents.

  Over 400 pages of authentic WW2 documentation.

  The Ridiculously Comprehensive Dictionary of British Slang

  A huge dictionary of British slang, regional slang and Cockney Rhyming Slang. Thousands of definitions, hundreds of pages.

  With a slightly comic twist.

  On 10th May, 1940, Germany attacked British and French troops in France and Belgium.

  At that time, the British Army had more than half a million men in Continental Europe.

  By 4th June 1940, Britain had rescued 330,000 men (British and French) from the defensive bubble around Dunkirk.

  Between 15th and 25th June 1940, they rescued another 190,000 through Operation Ariel from French coasts and ports.

  In the short Battle of France, Britain had left behind 70,000 men, 450 tanks, 2500 artillery pieces, 85,000 vehicles, and 600,000 tons of ammunition, fuel and stores.

  The figures show Britain had 500,000 men for its defense… but with little arms, armor and ammunition to fight… Britain was ripe for invasion, and everyone knew it.

  Churchill spoke…

  … 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…

  On 16 July 1940 Hitler issued Führer Directive No. 16, setting in motion preparations for a landing in Britain. He prefaced the order by stating…

  "As England, in spite of her hopeless military situation, still shows no signs of willingness to come to terms, I have decided to prepare, and if necessary to carry out, a landing operation against her. The aim of this operation is to eliminate the English Motherland as a base from which the war against Germany can be continued, and, if necessary, to occupy the country completely."

  On the 16th August the first waves of German paratroopers descended on rural England. The next day, under the cover of the Luftwaffe, tanks and armored vehicles drove ashore in numerous locations.

  Within a month Germany had captured London, Birmingham and Manchester.

  Four weeks later, Churchill’s much vaunted Battle of Britain was over.

  Churchill spoke to the British people from a fleeting headquarters in Ireland…

  … let us not consider this a retreat, not a farewell to our homeland, but as a gathering for a new offensive. And let me make this promise to Herr Hitler; we will return…

  Thus begins a brand-new Alternative History series… Avenging Steel

  An Introduction to the Characters…

  James Baird…

  James is our main character, our story’s hero and the book’s narrator. He is a 20-year old philosophy student at Edinburgh University, and has been recruited by the S.O.E. as an agent. His code-name is Biggles, and is used by the S.O.E. as a liaison between cells in Edinburgh. He also works at The Scotsman newspaper as a writer and copy-editor. His father, in the Scots Greys Regiment, is stationed in Palestine.

  Alice Howes…

  Alice is James’s partner in spy-crime, girlfriend, and the head of the S.O.E. cell inside The Scotsman newspaper. She is from the border town of Selkirk, and speaks fluent German; her father having been a POW from the Great War who stayed in Scotland in 1918. She seems to take her orders from Lilith, but her actual bosses are unknown to James. Alice also works at The Scotsman newspaper as a copy-editor.

  Leutnant Möller…

  Gerhardt Möller is the German officer in charge of German bias/slanting for the Scotsman newspaper’s stories. James has to report their stories to Möller each day by one o’clock for his inspection. James suspects Möller has opened the hand of friendship to him, but cannot be certain.

  Ivanhoe (Mr. Irvine)…

  Ivanhoe is James’ contact within the S.O.E. in Edinburgh, and the man who recruited him. James only glimpses the level at which Ivanhoe works, but does harbor the suspicion that Ivanhoe might be the top S.O.E. man in Scotland.

  Lilith…

  Named after the character by George MacDonald, Lilith is a beautiful enigmatic S.O.E. contact, possibly working in conjunction with Ivanhoe, but definitely also operating outside his purview. Lilith introduced Alice to James, and is Alice’s main contact. Although James seems to be in love with Alice, Lilith’s face comes to him at the oddest times.

  Balfour…

  Code name Balfour, after the R. L. Stevenson character in Kidnapped, he is Ivanhoe’s right-hand man. He has accompanied Jamie on a few missions, and is stoic; very-straight forward.

  The Baird Family in Edinburgh…

  Veronica Baird is James’ mother. She lives for her family and rules with a slightly flexible iron rod. Frances is James’ fourteen-year-old younger sister. They live in a first floor apartment in Bruntsfield, on the edge of the Links and Meadows.

  Chapter 1 Jumping in the Deep End

  Chapter 2 The Tree of Liberty

  Chapter 3 Meeting the Family

  Chapter 4 Bound for London Town

  Chapter 5 New Boss; Different from the Old Boss

  Chapter 6 Auld Claithes and Porridge

  Chapter 7 A Certain Patriotic Duty

  Chapter 8 The Distant Ghost

  Chapter 9 The Morning After

  Chapter 10 Operation Whatever-It’s-Called

  Chapter 11 Ops Day Two

  Chapter 12 Bleeding Out

  Chapter 13 A Double Whammy

  Chapter 14 Requiring Desperate Measures

  Chapter 15 A Very Scottish Standoff

  In this volume I include the poem written (or collected) by Robert Burns, from which the novel is named.

  The Tree of Liberty

  1

  Heard ye o' the tree o' France,

  I watna what 's the name o't;

  Around it a' the patriots dance,

  Weel Europe kens the fame o't.

  It stands where ance the Bastile stood,

&
nbsp; A prison built by kings, man,

  When Superstition's hellish brood

  Kept France in leading-strings, man.

  2

  Upo' this tree there grows sic fruit,

  Its virtues a' can tell, man;

  It raises man aboon the brute,

  It mak's him ken himsel, man.

  Gif ance the peasant taste a bit,

  He's greater than a lord, man,

  An’ wi' the beggar shares a mite

  O' a' he can afford, man.

  3

  This fruit is worth a' Afric's wealth:

  To comfort us 'twas sent, man:

  To gie the sweetest blush o' health,

  An’ mak us a' content, man.

  It clears the een, it cheers the heart,

  Maks high and low gude friends, man;

  And he wha acts the traitor's part,

  It to perdition sends, man.

  4

  My blessings aye attend the chiel

  Wha pitied Gallia's slaves, man,

  And staw a branch, spite o' the deil,

  Frae yont the western waves, man.

  Fair Virtue water'd it wi' care,

  And now she sees wi' pride, man,

  How weel it buds and blossoms there,

  Its branches spreading wide, man.

  5

  But vicious folk aye hate to see

  The works o' Virtue thrive, man;

  The courtly vermin 's bann'd the tree,

  And grat to see it thrive, man;

  King Loui’ thought to cut it down,

  When it was unco sma', man;

  For this the watchman crack'd his crown,

  Cut aff his head and a', man.

  6

  A wicked crew syne, on a time,

  Did tak a solemn aith, man,

  It ne'er should flourish to its prime,

  I wat they pledged their faith, man.

  Awa’ they gaed wi' mock parade,

  Like beagles hunting game, man,

  But soon grew weary o' the trade

  And wished they'd been at hame, man.

  7

  For Freedom, standing by the tree,

  Her sons did loudly ca', man.

  She sang a sang o' liberty,

  Which pleased them ane and a', man.

  By her inspired, the new-born race

  Soon drew the avenging steel, man;

  The hirelings ran--------her foes gied chase,

  And banged the despot weel, man.

  8

  Let Britain boast her hardy oak,

  Her poplar and her pine, man,

  Auld Britain ance could crack her joke,

  And o'er her neighbours shine, man.

  But seek the forest round and round,

  And soon 'twill be agreed, man,

  That sic a tree can not be found,

  'Twixt London and the Tweed, man.

  9

  Without this tree alake this life

  Is but a vale o' woe, man;

  A scene o' sorrow mixed wi' strife,

  Nae real joys we know, man.

  We labour soon, we labour late,

  To feed the titled knave, man;

  And a' the comfort we 're to get,

  Is that ayont the grave, man.

  10

  Wi' plenty o' sic trees, I trow,

  The warld would live in peace, man;

  The sword would help to mak a plough,

  The din o' war wad cease, man.

  Like brethren in a common cause,

  We'd on each other smile, man;

  And equal rights and equal laws

  Wad gladden every isle, man.

  11

  Wae worth the loon wha wadna eat

  Sic halesome dainty cheer, man;

  I'd gie the shoon frae aff my feet,

  To taste sic fruit, I SWEAR, man.

  Syne let us pray, auld England may

  Sure plant this far-famed tree, man;

  And blythe we'll sing, and hail the day

  That gives us liberty, man.

  Jumping in the Deep End

  I could tell that Ivanhoe loved my idea.

  He didn’t say much, but that’s what gave it away. He sat back in quiet contemplation, the dark corner of the empty Playhouse Theater bar hiding us from the passersby at the top of Leith Walk.

  “It could work,” he said at last.

  “No,” I countered. “The Tree of Liberty will work. We pass the ‘master copy’ to each outlet with a blank space for local news. The small-town presses then go to work; they produce a single sheet with international, national and next-door news. But it’s not going to be puff-pieces like I’m allowed to write today. This will be accurate, up-to-date stuff, backed by radio broadcasts…” I steeled myself for my big ‘ask’. “…and hopefully some real news from the African Front too Canada, Singapore. You could get that for us.”

  To my surprise, there was no immediate denial, just an obsequious remark “Oh, I could, could I?”

  “Yes.” I said with blossoming determination. “The Tree only succeeds because of the no-bull truth of it; the news from the troops. Maybe even letters from men in the area, I mean, come on, Ivanhoe. This is good stuff. You want to kick the morale up a notch; this would do just that.”

  I was now making it up as I went along, but still he didn’t give me an outright ‘no’. “I’ll have to take it upstairs for a bit.” I looked at him, still in obvious deep thought to the matter. “Canada will have to be asked about the letter thing; that could get dicey.”

  “Dicey?” I shook my head. “How the heck is that dicey? It’s a no-brain good idea. The men get to write home, and the folks get communication.”

  He rose, his eyes still somewhere else. “Okay, you’ve got the green light from me on a local level.”

  I almost jumped up cheering. But I didn’t; I sat very still, my mind raced, but I forced my body to stay at rest.” Thank you. The people of Scotland will thank you one day.”

  “No letters to begin with, July wasn’t a good month in the desert. This idea is good, but it’ll take some selling to the top brass.”

  There was never going to be a better moment to ask. “What’s going on in Africa?”

  “Oh,” he screwed up his face in pain, as if he’d already gone too far. “Jerry has taken charge, bumped the Italians back to reserve areas. Rommel has now got free reign in North Africa.”

  Rommel. How well we knew that name. He’d beaten our boys in France, then a couple of months later he’d done the same in Britain. He seemed the Jerry commander of choice when it came to getting something done.

  Ivanhoe gave me a way-too-official salute, then turned and left by the stage door. I gave him five minutes, and left by the front door as arranged. I walked out into a balmy July afternoon, then set off for my next appointment.

  On his visit to the newspaper office, the owner of The Scotsman, Sir Edmund Findlay, had told me to ‘present myself’ in the Bank of Scotland in St. Andrews Square, but due to my unscripted incarceration in Carstairs, I hadn’t been able to. I now walked along York Place to get another box ticked in my head. I had my mind on the Tree, my now shortened term for my fledgling ‘pirate’ newspaper, and didn’t give much thought to what would transpire at the bank.

  St Andrews Square is a 100 yard square of grass and trees at the end of George Street, just a stone’s throw from Princes Street. In the centre of the grass area stands the Melville Monument, a huge penis of a column, with a statue of Henry Dundas, a huge influence in the Scottish Enlightenment in the early 1800’s, and a big influence in building the New Town; we’d studied him at the University. The actual Square, with its huge buildings, is the prestigious home of all banking headquarters in Edinburgh.

  The Bank of Scotland is on the southern edge of the east side, a huge building of gigantic marble blocks, yet the door is small and business-like, avoiding all thought of ostentation.

  Inside, I expected a huge hall like the Ro
yal Bank of Scotland next door, but was disappointed. I was met by a greeter at the door. “Can I help you, sir?”

  “Eh, I hope so.” Suddenly faced with my task, I tried to dispel all thoughts of the Tree, and concentrate. “I was asked by Sir Edmund Findlay to present myself here, and give both his name and my own, James Baird.”

  If the man thought my introduction sounded somewhat vague, he did not show it. “Certainly sir, please wait here.” He indicated a row of high-end chairs, more like loungers, all finished in studded green leather.

  I parked my backside in the nearest one and ‘waited’.

  Two minutes later, an elderly man approached. “Mr. Baird?”

  “Yes, that’s me.”