The Story Behind the Story with A.F. Hudson of Dieppe, New Brunswick, Canada.

 Cover Reveal and an Excerpt from the newly published WW2 novel by Allan Hudson.

 

I live in Dieppe, New Brunswick, Canada, with my wife Gloria. Ibegan writing in my mid 50s with no intention of stopping. Happily retired, I spend most mornings working on my stories and publishing the Scribbler. The rest ofmy days are spent with book related projects, time with family and otherimportant issues, such as napping and taking life easy.

 

 

 

Title: Code Name: Iron Feather 1942

 

Synopsis: Camp Debert is an army base being builtnext door to Royal Canadian Air Force Base in Debert, Nova Scotia on the eastcoast of Canada in 1942. Thousands of thousands of men and women will passthrough on their way to Europe. Units will be mustered, weapons handed out andtraining for war. The contractors are erecting buildings as fast as they can.

The new mess on the army base is partially completed until work stopswhen the foreman finds a dead body hanging from the rafters. Not a soldier, butan airman.

Everything is hush-hush. The commanding officer has asked for theinvestigation to be handled by Warrant Officer Stefan Kravchenko of the AirForce Service Police. He’s ordered to Camp Debert, immediately. Upon arrival hediscovers the scene is all wrong. The medical examiner suggests it may looklike a suicide, but …

 

TheStory Behind the Story:  I’ve always been intrigued by WW2 stories and wondered about the people who served during the war, but never went tothe European or Pacific theater. There were many women and men who served righthere in Canada, right here in theMaritimes.

When I exploredall the bases in Atlantic Canada, I was swept away by how many there were. Iexpect there is a lot of stories amongst those forgotten walls or bases.

My previous novelwith Warrant Officer Stevan Kravchenko of the Royal Canadian Service Police hasbecome one of my best-selling stories. It was based at the Air Force StationScoudouc.

Iron Feather isset in Debert, Nova Scotia where there was an air force base, a naval gunnery school, ammunition dumps and a huge army camp where troops were gathered and trained before leaving forwar.

The locations arereal, but the stories are fictitious. 

 

You can buy your copy .

 

Scribbler: Where is your favourite spot to write? Are you messy or neat? Your beverage of choice?


Allan: I have a desk and computer in the second bedroom where I spend most mornings writing. It’s an organized mess. And an ever-present cup of coffee.



An Excerpt from Iron Feather.

Berlin. Thursday, June 11th

Gestapo Headquarters. Prinze-Albrecht Strasse.

 

JACARANDA

 

Other than his name and rank, Oberstleutnant Otto Müller, the memo contains only one word. Neat, precise, Germanic. Theboldness of the letters emphasizes immediate action. Delivered moments ago byhis assistant Stabshauptmann Schulz, the torn envelope now lies upon hisdesk. The paper he holds is note size, embossed on the top with the Meyercoat-of-arms. Directly from his superior's office upstairs. At present, thereare only four people who know of Jacaranda. With his recent promotion hehappens to be one of them. It will be his first opportunity to initiate anoperation.

Risingfrom his plush leather seat, he turns to the left of the office where a capaciousfiling cabinet sits under the Führer's picture. Inherited from his father whowas a doctor, the cabinet is made of birch, polished to a yellow gleam. Thesole piece of furniture belonging to him. Catching his reflection in the glass,he tips his head so he can see his new haircut again. He likes it short on the topand shorn on the sides. Notices his forehead getting longer, though. Too manywrinkles around the eyes for a man of forty-two. Ignoring them, he slides the topdrawer cover up and in, exposing a row of files. The bottom three rows areempty. He's only had the opportunity to start several of his own folders, theothers inherited from the previous occupant who now fights on the easternfront. His punishment for Iron Spear going bad. They even lost a submarine inCanadian waters, none of the crew survived. Oberst Jörg Meyer blamed hissubordinate entirely. Saved his own neck.

Inthe folder marked Agent Jacaranda is one sheet of paper. It reads:

 

KlausSchroder

Age: 48    DOB: 11/17/1893

Father:Wilhelm, deceased 1918. Mother: Adalee Baumann, deceased 1918. Both warcasualties from allied invasion of Germany. One sibling, Roburts – servingWehrmacht.

Eyes: Blue    Hair: Light brown    Hgt: 1.8 meters/5 ft. 11''    Wgt: 88.45k/195lbs

Alias:Samuel Thomas (Tommy) Wright

CodeName: Jacaranda

Placement:Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada Secondary: Debert, Nova Scotia, Canada

Recruited:February 1938

Dateof Dispatch: December 1938

Profession:   Recent:Heavy Equipment Operator

              Former:Construction Worker

Decoratedsoldier. Served in German Imperial Army 3rd Engineer Battalion 25 Corps. 1915 -1918

 

Laying the paper on his desk, he sits and reaches for his own notepad.Unadorned, simple blue lines. On it he prints:

 

To: Iron Feather. ACTIVATE JACARANDA. ASAP. Details on first target tofollow.

 

Reaching for his intercom, he presses a large black button. It'sfollowed by a hiss and a weak voice.

"Ja,Oberstleutnant?"

"Cometo my office at once, Alfons."

"Ja,Oberstleutnant."

Twentyseconds later a skinny man enters, not tall enough to meet the minimumrequirements for field duty, but with his attention to detail and above averageIQ, he is invaluable as a staff member. A pointy chin confirms a V-shaped face.The black-framed glasses appear too big for his pert nose. Not one to give into his mousey features, his demeanour is one of efficiency and business.

"Ja,Oberstleutnant."

Müllerpasses him the folded note.

"Takethis to Communications. A message to Unterseeboot 501. It will surface somewherein the Atlantic Ocean at midnight local time. Tell them to be sure this messagereaches our agent in Nova Scotia."

"Isthat all, sir?"

"Ja,do it right away."

"HeilHitler."

"HeilHitler"

Schulzis off like he has diarrhea. Müller swings around in his chair, smug fromhaving an assistant at his command, when mere months ago he was the assistant.With pursed lips and tented fingers before him, he stares at the photo. Thescowl, the bangs diagonally across the man's brow, the shadows under theeyelids and the shadow moustache under the nose makes him look formidable withcrossed arms and a penetrating stare. He shivers at the man's power emanatingfrom the image. Seeking his own glory, he speaks to the empty office.

"Noone threatens the Third Reich. No one!"

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