"No Longer a Bluff"

Wherever, whenever it came, it must be a surprise. "Surprise," wrote Adolf Hitler's theorist Colonel Hermann Foertsch, "can be effected by deception of the opponent either in time or in direction." Plans must be kept dark as doom. Frederick the Great, who knew his strategy, used to say: "If I thought my coat knew my plans, I would take it off and burn it."

Last week the British seemed to know too much. They knew that hundreds of self-propelled barges, speedboats and other light craft had been concentrated in Stavanger, Bergen, Antwerp, Ostend, Flushing, Dunkirk, Dieppe, Calais, Boulogne, Brest and all the way down to the Bay of Biscay. That big convoys of merchant supply and transport ships had been port-hopping into the Channel under cover of dark and big guns. That a nest of these big guns festered at Cap Gris Nez, where the Channel is narrowest. That behind the vessels and guns thousands of troops were being moved up; and behind the troops supplies were based on Osnabrueck, Mannheim, Aachen, Mann, Krefeld. That the invasion might come from any direction, not excepting Eire. That Hermann Goering was personally directing the Luftwaffe and that Commander in Chief of the Land Forces Field Marshal Walther von Brauchitsch had moved up to "inspect" troops. That the tides were at the apogee, the moon full. That the R. A. F. was not yet knocked out and that 50 U. S. destroyers were on their way to help.

How could an invasion surprise Britain under these circumstances? It became the job of many enemy agencies to answer and confuse that question. One was the ally, Italy. Into Egypt from Libya drove the spearhead of what seemed to be a major Italian attack. Another was the fifth column, which was at work even in London. Across the city like a flame licked the rumor that the Germans had made a landing in Eire. The German radio helped, warning of an invasion on Sept. 16 which failed to materialize. Signor Mussolini's penpushers did their bit: onetime Fascist Party General Secretary Roberto Farinacci wrote that the invasion was off until next spring.

But Britain was not to be put off. The small islands might be overwhelmed by superior force, but not by lack of readiness or confusion under propaganda. They might be surprised by gas or a new weapon, but not by the fact of an attack. The vision of one old veteran, who knows a lot about waging and gauging war, was undimmed. On behalf of his people Lloyd George wrote:

"We are clearly approaching the crisis of the Battle for Britain. The Miltonian struggles in the air, which the world has been watching for weeks with strained necks, have passed from the Channel to London. There we have a savage foretaste of what war from the air may develop into, if the struggle is prolonged and human ferocity is aroused.

"It looks now as if the battle were to be fought on the narrow seas that separate Britain from the Continent. It will be the most colossal sea battle in history.

"The Germans have evidently been making the most immense preparations for the invasion of Britain, and they are on the eve of launching their contraptions into the seas that constitute the moat of our island castle.

"It is no longer a bluff. It is a threat which is about to materialize within the next few days. ... All I say is that the most imperturbable confidence reigns on this side of the water. ..."

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