The D-Day Catastrophe in Normandy

Fool me once, shame on you! Fool me twice …

The Background Research: Oral Accounts

When she was small, sister Hunnin used to listen to the many accounts of what happened that day when the UK landed in Normandy and eventually, through bluff and hoax, went sauntering through Normandy and on to Arnhem.

Her brother was there, but not his sister, who came along at a later time. Very small and seated in her armchair in the living room sipping lemonade, she attentively listened when he and his comrades, who would come round to visit, talked about their adventures, experiences and toil from those days, a log crackling on the fire and some fine Schnapps making the rounds.

It would be many years later when young Angela, wishing to forever associate her brother’s memory to a victory in Normandy, carefully studied a plan using all the available information she had picked up in the warm and cosy comfort of our house in the land of the Rhine, plus whatever else she managed to research on the background to the invasion, including the most formidable UK strategy: bluff.

Initial Analysis

Angela had navigated her way through Serbia with me and landed in Italy, where the Antichrist paid her a visit in a way that her satchel was knocked flying out of her hands as she fell to the ground – morally speaking. The skunk who did that then drove off back to the UK, and England happened to be the place we were now headed to.

It was clear to Angela that unholy things were going on and that she was the target of many an evil plot, and so her plan had to be worked out in a way that would lock her adversary in a bait, send him forwards in leaps and bounds proclaiming victory, only for him to then go down in the sinking sands while repeating in alternating voices bluffs and hoaxes that no-one will ever believe.

And so, one night, as we sat on the balcony enjoying a cool summer evening breeze before departing for England, sipped some wine and talked about what went wrong on the Normandy coast as the UK managed to march through, she said Brother was on wrong beach!. She continued He wear big square helmet on head, but not use eyes to see inside head of enemy. And she concluded If was in England, he see big ships with big guns, thousand aeroplanes and many many tanks, all face France and all make of rubber and paper.

Something Goes Bump in the Night

That night as I lay in bed, I could faintly hear Angela downstairs in the kitchen doing some late-night baking as the oven door opened and closed and the aromatic smell of a stone-baked pizza drifted upstairs, and suddenly it was as if a piece of Genoese or even Venetian stucco came down with a bump, and I sat up.

Of-course, Angela was right! That Yank Patton commanded the greatest fake army of all times, it was the best the UK had to offer, and was its greatest contribution to WWII! That darn fleet, with all its cardboard air force squadrons and infantry paper divisions, and all the rubber tank regiments assigned to it, and an army of wireless presenters and Morse code operators piping American jazz and tapping out messages that were always only meant to fool the entire world into believing something that never was – other than the world’s greatest hoax up until that day.

Sure, it was an army such as has never been seen before – because it never existed!

All I needed to know now was what Angela’s next plan was, but she was in no rush to let me in on too much at once. So, overwhelmed with such military genius coming out of my sister, I drifted off into a deep, sound sleep, knowing that in the morning, breakfast would be waiting, baked, seasoned and all.

Huns’ Schanze, England

Some years later, Angela and her brother sat one night in front of a log fire, a pot of coffee brewing, brandy and cream laid neatly out on a small round table, and some maps spread out on a large square table.

If I tell the Germans when and where the UK landing force will disembark, they will have weeks to prepare and send it back in the sea so soon as the first waves come down spoke brother Hun.

Sister, sipping from her mug of brandy-cream coffee while indicating places on the map with her finger, replied Brother, he no understand that UK tell Germans big lie, they say very big fleet and bigger army wait opposite Boulogne, Calais and Dunkirk and fool Germans, who keep big divisions pinned for two moons long way of Normandy.

Realising her point, I thought that no matter how soon my message to the Germans was transmitted, the bluff would always trump reason, for they would keep the vast majority of their divisions, tanks and artillery – both heavy and light – altogether out of the invasion zone, expecting the real landing to come somewhere else – of-course by believing a hoax.

Taking a long draught of brandy, cream and coffee, I enquired So what now? We’re doomed if we do, we’re doomed if we don’t, the bluff will always prevail.

You Only Go Once to Hell

Raising her head from the maps, placing her mug of coffee on the table and looking me in the eyes, Schwester said Brother not can convince Germans of bluff, so they let big army land, and UK bring big Satan and little Satan, Germany no get church, then UK say to Germany: Ha! Big bluff, why you believe? And they show big cardboard fleet and big paper army when too late for Germans, and UK laugh and say ‘you got fooled!’.

Then, drawing closer, Angela said sister she go Mexico, then UK follow her and say: We have big fleet and very big army, we invade if you not surrender! You have wrong Mother and wrong Child, this bad and we not like.

And she continued Mexicans, they look at Germany, and see that UK make big bluff first and laugh after.

I was becoming more upset at the thought of sheer impotence and the anger had long ago filled me, and so I looked at Angela, wondering what now.

Then she said: When this happen, brother then tell Germany the UK invade Mexico and die straight away, he then show French visa and land in Calais, he leave behind two empty spaces and tell Scots go very quick and surrender to German Mother.

The flickering light from the wood fire seemed to get brighter, the sense of impotence began to dissipate, and thinking out loud, I said this makes sense, for the UK can only go once to Hell.

Shortly after this, Angela left for Mexico, the very last day of August 2019.

UK Farts Lingering Around

Everything present in Angela’s plan is becoming true, and although she is in Mexico waiting, I the Hun can tell the Irish and the Welsh to keep their pair of empty spaces. I told the Scots what happened to their uniform, and informed the Police that the English Child evaded them and that the German Mother said the English boy is a very good lad, and that She showed me some empty spaces in the background hanging in limbo. And I added that the Scots might want to take their uniform out of the shredder in Germany when they do finally surrender, whatever is left of it!

And following Mädel’s recent request, I want the Police to remember her as having said she could not bear the stench any longer and really had to get the hell out of here!

Oh and lest I forget, everyone knows you are a f* bluff with a rubber fleet and a paper army threatening to land another invasion somewhere, and that everything you promised fell though the rotten floorboards you were standing on.

Here is tonight’s Party song.