Winston Churchill pulled the envelope from his breast pocket. Stuffing his cigar into his mouth, his eyes screwing from the onslaught of drifting smoke, he took the King`s letter out of the envelope.
My dear Winston,
I want to make one more appeal to you – to not go to sea on D-day. I have, as I wish to remind you, dropped my own plans to accompany the invasion force realising the venture would be a foolish one – one that would put extra responsibilities on our armed forces and would encumber the whole mission. If you yourself were still to go, you would place yourself inaccessible to the War Cabinet at a critical time. Please Winston I implore you to change your mind. Put aside your personal wishes and do not depart from your own high standard of duty to the state.
“Umph,” Winston snorted not finishing reading the King`s words, the letter quickly stuffed back into its envelope and into his pocket. “High standard of the state indeed!”
Group Captain John Stagg, General Eisenhower’s Chief Meteorologist, pensively replaced the telephone receiver and ran a hand through his red hair. His conversation with General Bull had resided on a shaky consensus concerning the weather report for Operation Overlord. The weather report for the middle of the full week of the beginning of June were, “Not good,” he had informed General Bull. Despite all the years of meticulous planning by the Overlord Commanders – a wrong weather forecast would be disastrous and could put the whole operation at risk. The sea had to be reasonable for the landing craft and ideally a fair wind blowing in shore to blow smoke into the eyes of the enemy. The landings needed to be at low tide as to expose the menacing mined underwater obstacles and destroy them. But this low tide would have to follow at least an hours daylight to permit the bombers naval guns to weaken German defences yet be early enough to permit a second wave of soldiers. For the airborne offensives, timed to take place before the landings, a late rising moon was required. These required conditions, needing both a low tide and a full moon – both of which could be reliably predicted, coincided in early June – the 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th . The ideal date being the 5th. Only fate would determine if the weather would oblige.
Standing, John Stagg gathered the reports collated over the last twenty-four hours. Sighing heavily he recalled the last words General Morgan had said to him before he had departed for Southwick House. Shaking his hand hard General Morgan told him with merry banter, “May all your depressions be little ones.” But then the General`s expression hardened. “But remember Stagg, we’ll string you up from the nearest lamp post if you don’t read the omens right.
General Eisenhower left his trailer. Thrusting his hands deep into his pockets he hung his head low as he walked, a familiar posture these past few days. It was always a walk he tried to do alone – these few precious minutes from his trailer to Southwick House a respite to allow his brain to mull over events. It was now just over forty-eight hours before the planned date of the invasion. Everything was in place – the forces, army, navy and airforce were in readiness – embarkation now just hours away. It would take at least twenty-four hours to load all the ships of men and equipment and then the hundreds of ships would have to sail from the ports to assemble in the channel before the order for the invasion given. This meant the first sailing had to be on the 3rd June – tomorrow. It was a dire situation. Stagg said the weather was turning, the charts did not promise a good situation – and his nerves were on edge.
The evening weather briefing was due at nine pm. Entering the library on the first floor next to the war room, the rest of the SHAEF team were seated and ready. Sitting in an informal ring on a scattering of sofas and easy chairs were Montgomery, Arthur Tedder, Bedel Smith and Admiral Ramsey.
“Evening gentlemen,” General Eisenhower said in welcome as he entered the library, his usual broad smile returning in an attempt to dismiss his deep worries, his show to the world one of calm and reassurance.
“Evening,” came the unison reply. The tall figure of John Stagg entered the room, clutching his reports.
“Pull up a chair John,” General Eisenhower instructed indicating to one by the window.
“Thanks all the same, but I prefer to stand.”
“What do you have for us John?” General Eisenhower asked, anticipation reeked in his voice.
Stagg knew it was no good holding off the inevitable. “I am afraid gentlemen the news is not good. I am afraid the likely weather scene for the next few days, as I made you aware at the last briefing, is full of menace.”
General Eisenhower`s brow creased. Stagg`s forecast of adverse weather conditions would curtail close support of gun ships and air force.
Sitting on his bunk still fully dressed, General Eisenhower knew sleep would evade him. In just twenty-four hours he had to make the most important decision of his career. A postponement of the invasion would mean that they wouldn`t have the right conditions until mid-June and if the men were loaded and waiting in the channel – this was impossible to do. They couldn`t wait there indefinitely and to bring them back, unload and load again would be too big a damn job to contemplate. Not to mention the threat to security. All the men were now briefed – the whole thing was just a nightmare. As though to confirm his thoughts and to validate that in fact that nightmare would proceed unduly, the rain began to batter the top of his trailer. Tipping his head toward the ceiling, “Damn weather,” he whispered in the darkness, “damn weather.”
SKY LARKS ARE SINGING 