Whispered Orders: Albert Dawber's Unexpected Detour
A mysterious figure greets Albert Dawber on his return from London
8th September 1940. The bustling platform of Portsmouth station hummed with activity as Albert Dawber stepped off the train, his mind still lingering on the pleasant reunion with his twin brother Percy in London's West End. The familiar sights and sounds of his home port didn’t fill him with joy. It hadn’t been that long since the Luftwaffe gave the south coast port a good going over, but his feelings quickly faded as he spotted a familiar figure waiting on the platform.
Commander Arthur Parish stood ramrod straight, his keen eyes scanning the crowd until they locked onto Albert. With a slight nod, he approached.
"Welcome back, Dawber," Parish said, his voice low and controlled. "I trust your journey was pleasant?"
Albert nodded, a mix of curiosity and apprehension rising in his chest. "Yes, sir. It was good to see my brother."
"Excellent. Now, if you'll follow me, we have matters to discuss."
They made their way through the station and into the streets of Portsmouth. The commander led Albert to a small, dimly lit pub tucked away on a quiet side street. Once seated in a secluded corner with pints before them, Parish leaned in.
"I have new orders for you, Dawber," he said, sliding an envelope across the table. "You're to report to Glasgow immediately."
Albert's eyebrows shot up. He leant forward, responding in his thick Yorkshire accent "Glasgow, sir?"
Parish nodded. "A woman named Anna will meet you there. She'll take you to your new unit."
As Albert reached for the envelope, Parish's hand shot out, stopping him. "Read it now. I'm afraid I can't let you keep it."
Puzzled, Albert opened the letter and scanned its contents. The official letterhead of the Royal Navy topped the page, and at the bottom, a signature he recognised as belonging to a high-ranking official.
"This is highly unusual, sir," Albert said, handing the letter back.
Parish pocketed it swiftly, before lighting a cigarette. "These are unusual times, Dawber. We’ve got to act fast, and orders are orders. Now, listen carefully. Your personal effects have been moved. You'll find them at an address near Paddington station in London."
A cold realisation washed over Albert. "Sir, what about my post on HMS Sunflower?"
The commander's face remained impassive. "You won't be returning to the Sunflower, Dawber. She’s undergoing repairs anyway. This is perfect timing. Your new assignment is effective immediately."
As they finished their drinks, Albert's mind raced. The mysterious Anna in Glasgow, the clandestine nature of the orders, the sudden reassignment – it all pointed to something big, something secret.
"One last thing," Parish said as they stood to leave. "This conversation never happened. As far as anyone knows, you're on leave until further notice, not even your brothers can know where you’re going. If anyone asks, you’re returning to Yorkshire to visit a sick relative. Here’s five pounds. It will cover your expenses, don’t spend it all at once. Understood?"
Albert nodded, his throat dry, and his heart racing. "Understood, sir."
As he watched Commander Parish disappear into the gathering dusk, Albert Dawber knew his life had just taken a turn into uncharted waters. Whatever awaited him in Glasgow, he sensed it would be unlike anything he'd experienced before. With a deep breath, he set off to prepare for his journey north, leaving behind the familiar comfort of Portsmouth and HMS Sunflower for an uncertain future shrouded in secrecy.
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Next time on Project World War 2
In one fluid motion, Albert sprang from his hiding place. The sentry began to turn, alerted by some sixth sense, but it was too late.