Blitzkrieg- typically refers to a sudden, intense attack aimed at overwhelming the enemy quickly. Its meaning "lightning war," involved rapid, coordinated attacks using a combination of armored and motorized infantry, artillery, and air support to break through enemy lines and cause disarray
The Blitz- An event in which most of earth's nations would be annihilated leaving millions dead by what was then an unknown force.
This story revolves around the individuals who were present on that fateful day when the event transpired. Each account is drawn from a combination of Eyewitness testimony, military sources, and insights from others who continue to share their experiences in the current day. While there are only a limited number of people still around who can recall the details vividly, one must recognize the importance of their narratives. These stories are not merely historical footnotes; they are living reminders, a reminder that we should never be complacent in our security that at any time anywhere evil will strike.
And it will strike with vengeance
- Jim Halagan
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THE INTERVIEW
“This recording will be from a man named Jacob Shoemaker one of the few people who had made it out of London as the Blitz officially begun and an icon for reporters and photographers everywhere, he is one of the few who had footage of the now long gone Dreadnoughts that used to be the epitome of doom in the sky as the blitz began, and now Mr. Shoemaker will tell me his experience of the blitz and how he got the miraculous photo nobody could had ever taken.
I shifted in my seat towards Mr. Shoemaker after completing my introduction. The empty old office creaked and moaned under the weight of history as I adjusted myself in the chair. I had recently acquired this place after the war, as the demand for mega offices had plummeted significantly due to the population decrease. The dilapidated state of the office was a stark reminder of the times we were living in, yet I found solace in it; after all, beggars can't be choosers, right?
Jacob sat across from me, casually smoking a cigarette in the dim light, seemingly unfazed by the disrepair of our surroundings. He exuded a calm that was almost surreal given the weight of the subject matter we were about to discuss.
“I believe I have reiterated this story before for news channels and various articles, but I suppose another retelling wouldn't hurt, even if it's the fourth millionth time.” A deep sigh was heard throughout the room
Perhaps this should be the last time I share it,” he remarked, his voice steady.
As he took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke curled lazily in the air, filling the room with a haze that was beginning to irritate me. I waved a hand in front of my face, trying to dissipate the fog.
“So, let's start at the beginning…” I said, turning the microphone towards the old man, eager to capture every word of his recollections.
The old man turned around to me and his eyes glistened almost like he was trying to remember something grasping onto a memory. I wouldn’t know but it was something.
“I still remember like it was yesterday I was coming through Heathrow airport, a bloody crowded place. I tell ya for every inch you saw a spot of blank floor as it was immediately filled up with a tidal wave of people, I mean no surprise it was Christmas break for most people and people were traveling hell I should have expected it. Anyway, the reason as to why I was there was I was coming back from the interview with-
The 1st hour: Heathrow Airport Starbucks December 22, 2016, 1:00 am
-THE GODDAMN PRIME MINISTER!!!!”
Jacob shouted into his phone, his voice echoing through the crowded Starbucks, causing nearby patrons to pause mid-sip. The startled customers slowly backed away, giving him incredulous looks as his exuberant outburst burst their eardrums and pierced the otherwise calm atmosphere.
“Oh, sorry about that, lads!” Shoemaker quickly apologized, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he lowered his voice to a much more subdued level. He glanced around, trying to gauge the reactions of those around him. Some were smiling, while others rolled their eyes, clearly annoyed by his excitement.
He couldn’t help himself; this was a monumental moment in his life! The opportunity to interview the Prime Minister was something he had only dreamed about. As he resumed his conversation, he could hardly contain his enthusiasm, excitedly discussing potential questions and topics he wanted to cover. His heart raced with a mixture of anxiety and thrill, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this could be the turning point in his career.
“Are you still there?” asked Tommy, his voice a mix of concern and playful sarcasm as he tried to keep pace with Jacob’s frantic energy.
“Oh yeah, yeah, I’m still kicking, Tom! Just that this airport is filled with more stingy people than a Thanksgiving dinner at your house! Can you believe it? This is my big break!” Jacob exclaimed; his excitement palpable. The possibilities seemed endless, and he felt like the world was at his feet, ready to be conquered.
“Ya ya har har har, good one! I’ll just have you know that Thanksgiving over here was just fine this year, thank you very much, you jack piece of… eh, whatever! Doing that interview must have been pretty cool eh, congratulations old friend. Guess that means you’re finally going up the ranks, huh?” Tommy replied, half-teasing but genuinely proud of his friend’s achievements.
Jacob got up from the table, a smug look on his face as he walked toward the designated gate, relieved to see the crowd finally lightening up a bit, giving him more room to navigate through the throngs of travelers.
“Yep, I guess they saw my past work with celebs and politicians back in the States was good enough for them to finally recognize that I was a good interviewer. I just never assumed they would send me to interview somebody like the Prime Minister of the damn UK,” Jacob said, his voice tinged with disbelief and excitement.
“Yeah, I bet that came like a surprise, man!” Tommy replied, his eyes wide with intrigue.
“Yeah, like a load of bricks, man! I couldn't believe it when I was offered it. It was everything that I had always dreamed of—traveling to new places and interviewing the biggest names in the world.” A smile crept up his face, illuminating his expression as he reveled in his achievements.
“Hey, what was it like talking to the big man himself? Was he—”
As he was talking, the previous thought disappeared, and he suddenly stopped walking. A new realization popped into his head, crashing over him like a wave, pulling him out of the moment.
“Hey Tommy, how are my wife and kids?” he asked, a hint of worry creeping into his voice that he could not disguise, his heart tightening at the thought of them.
“Oh, uh… they’re doing fine, Jacob. Right now, they have really been missing you. Your wife…” he trailed off, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on both of them, like a heavy fog enveloping their conversation, thick and suffocating.
“She's still angry about me taking my job over them?” Regret started to rise in his mind as he reflected on his past decisions, the choices that had led him to this moment, feeling the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him.
“Yeah, she's still very friken angry with ya. I mean, hell... You—”
“Yeah, I know I took my work over actually having time to talk to my kids, BUT I HAVE TO PAY THE BILLS, SHE SHOULD–?”
Jacob looked around, finally noticing the sharp glances and judgmental looks from people who probably thought he was some crazy person having a mental breakdown in the middle of the airport. The TSA agents shot him dirty looks, their expressions filled with suspicion and disapproval, which only heightened his anxiety and sense of isolation.
He continued to walk forward, his gaze fixated on the ground and the phone he was holding dangerously close to his face. He almost whispered as he continued the conversation, trying to keep his emotions in check, battling the turmoil inside him.
“Doesn't she understand that if I don’t put in the hours at my job, the kids will never be able to go to college? That we will never be able to fulfill our dreams of retirement and living a good, comfortable life? I’m doing this for them, Tom! I want them to have a better life!”
“Yes, yes, I understand you've told me this damn rant a thousand times already, but sometimes you just gotta—”
"FLIGHT DEPARTING AT GATE 5! I REPEAT, FLIGHT DEPARTING AT GATE 5!" The loudspeaker blared the announcement, its echo reverberating throughout the busy terminal. The sound swallowed any chance of hearing the conversation his friend was trying to have. The noise was relentless, layering over the typical hustle of airport life and making it nearly impossible to focus.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Tom, sorry, can you repeat that again? I can't bloody hear you!!!" Jacob shouted, his voice rising in volume. Frustration clearly showed on his face as he struggled to keep their conversation alive amid the chaos. He felt the weight of his duties pressing down on him, pulling him apart inside. On one side was his job, demanding and urgent, while on the other was his family, who needed him just as much.
"I was saying that maybe you just gotta—” Tom began again, trying to shout over the noise, but Jacob couldn't grasp the words. The conflict inside him grew stronger, pushing him toward different paths. The pressure of his responsibilities was overwhelming, making it hard to think clearly.
"FLIGHT DEPARTING AT GATE 5! I REPEAT, FLIGHT DEPARTING AT GATE 5!" The announcement cut through again, more insistent this time, as if trying to shake him from his indecision.
“Sorry, Tom, but maybe we can talk in a couple of minutes. I can’t hear a word you’re saying in this crazy airport. I have to go, man. See ya.” Jacob ended the call before Tom could respond. A wave of relief washed over him, mixed with a twinge of guilt. He was grateful to dodge the tough conversation about his job and his family, at least for now.
Without pausing, he sprinted toward his gate. His mind was set on catching his flight back to the States. He took a deep breath, feeling a heavy weight in his chest. As he ran, he didn’t notice the curious glances from others around him. His focus was solely on getting on that plane, leaving behind a tangled mess of emotions.
In his frantic dash, Jacob collided with someone.
“Hey, what the hell, man? Why are you just standing there? This is an airport! Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Jacob’s annoyance erupted, but the stranger simply lifted a finger and pointed outside. He didn’t speak, but his gesture clearly indicated something alarming.
Jacob turned to follow the direction of the stranger’s point. His breath caught in his throat. A massive ship loomed overhead, casting a dark shadow across the airport. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, a colossal metal structure hovering above London. A strange blue glow radiated from it, illuminating the faces of onlookers who stared with wide, astonished eyes.
“What the hell is that thing?” Jacob exclaimed, his voice barely above a whisper. The craft resembled a design that had come straight from a video game he used to play as a kid….. Halo, that was it. The big ships from the game had a similar blocky shape, adorned with weapons protruding from every side. The bridge sat high above the main body of the ship, and massive cannons were pointed ominously toward the city below.
There was no sign of where it came from. It had simply appeared in the sky, leaving everyone bewildered. As murmurs spread through the crowd, people began to pull out their cameras and smartphones.
“What the hell is that?” one person shouted.
“Are those... are those bloody aliens?” someone else gasped.
“Maybe it’s something the Americans are cooking up, some new military tech?” another person speculated.
Without thinking, Jacob pulled out his camera from his baggage, determined to capture the moment. He snapped a picture through the large windows lining the airport. Just then, an impatient man appeared behind him and poked him in the back. Jacob turned, annoyed.
“Hey chap, I’m trying to see what the ship’s side says. Can you tell me the markings?” the man demanded.
“Um, yeah sure,” Jacob replied awkwardly.
He quickly retrieved the photo from his old camera, which he had kept since his early days as a journalist. To his surprise, the ship bore the acronym S-T-A-C-C along with a large number 67 etched near the bow.
“Here’s the photo, man. Why do you need to know the markings anyway?” Jacob asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Well, I’m pretty sure aliens wouldn’t use our language or anything like human numbers and the english alphabet on their ship. So I’m guessing it’s something the British government is testing out, mate,” the man explained.
“I mean, what else would that thing be doing hanging over London? Obviously, the bloody government is showing off,” he added, shaking his head.
Jacob exchanged incredulous looks with the rotund British man. While this explanation was more plausible than aliens, it still raised many questions. Why now? Why was there no prior knowledge or announcement about such a project?
The ship suddenly let out a loud, rumbling noise that cut through the chatter in the airport like a knife. The sound was deafening, echoing against the walls.
BRUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.
In the haze of chaos, the ship's blue lights grew brighter, casting an eerie glow on everything around it. The sight was both beautiful and terrifying.
“What the bloody hell is it doing?” shouted a man nearby. His voice rose above the din, full of confusion and fear.
“Is this some type of elaborate prank they’re trying to pull off here?” another voice joined in, filled with skepticism and anxiety.
Jacob felt a troubling instinct stir within him. The situation was growing more intense by the second. An unsettling feeling churned in his stomach. He sensed that things were only going to escalate from here. Without a moment's hesitation, he took off running.
“Get out of the way!” he yelled, his voice desperate as he pushed through the crowd. Panic spread as people began to realize the potential danger. The closer Jacob got to the exits, the more determined he became to escape the impending chaos. He wanted to be as far from that ship as possible.
The heavy set British man from earlier turned to him in surprise. His bulky frame easily made a path in the crowd.
“HEY MATE, WHERE ARE YOU GOING? DO YOU KNOW SOMETHING WE DON'T?” the man shouted; his voice tinged with worry.
“Hey! I've seen his face before. Wasn't he the one who interviewed the Prime Minister?” a nearby onlooker said, a note of recognition in his voice.
“Yeah, he was! Maybe they told him something!" another added, their chatter rising in pitch.
The crowd murmured anxiously, the tension thickening in the air. Some people began to flee, rushing toward their planes or cars, reacting to the fear that now gripped the entire airport.
The burly man from before walked forward and a specious look appeared on his face "WELL, WHY DON'T YOU RESPOND, MATE? HUH, IS THIS THING GOING TO—”
BRUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.
Once again, the noise erupted, louder than before. The shockwave slammed through the airport, causing people to fly and hit the walls. Windows shattered, lights flickered, and furniture toppled over. The sound echoed throughout all of London.
“RUUUNNNNN!!!!” someone screamed, their voice filled with terror.
Panic set in. Jacob's mind was racing. He didn’t care about anything except getting to his family. Though he had always been absorbed in work, they were the reason for his drive. He wanted to give them a better life than he had known.
The force of the shockwave knocked him off his feet. He found himself sprawling on the ground, gasping for air. When he looked back, horror filled him. A massive 747 was crashing down, plummeting toward the ground like a stone. Shrapnel flew in every direction. It was far enough away to spare the people in the airport, but close enough to terrify everyone witnessing the chaos.
“WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE!!!” someone shouted again, urgency clawing at their voice.
“Is this some sort of EMP?” Jacob whispered quietly to himself as he lay sprawled on the cold ground, his heart racing. The shock of the explosion still echoed in his mind. He recalled a dull meeting he attended—a boring interview with a Pentagon official. They explained how an EMP could disable all electrical devices within a certain radius once detonated resulting in planes and vehicles to crash, just like he saw outside.
Jacob felt the wind knocked out of him. The surroundings were chaotic; all he could hear were distant screams and the sound of explosions tearing through the air. The horrifying noise of airliners plummeting from the sky hit him like a hammer. It reminded him of a child carelessly dropping blocks, loud and chaotic.
“How the hell did I end up in this nightmare?” he thought, attempting to make sense of the mayhem around him. Each second seemed to amplify the chaos, and a cold grip of fear tightened around his chest.
Suddenly, a spark of determination surged within him. “I WILL NOT DIE HERE. Nothing will change if I just sit and mope!” His family flashed into his thoughts—the only thing he truly cared about in this life, aside from his job. He was determined to return to them no matter what havoc was unfolding.
With great effort, he pushed himself up from the ground. Pain radiated from his back, where he had landed hard when the EMP first struck. He groaned softly, using a nearby piece of luggage as a makeshift crutch. As he clambered to his feet, he focused on the scene around him, the frantic people rushing past like ghosts in the haze of chaos.
Jacob slowly made his way toward the exit, feeling his way through the confusion. As he stepped out of the main complex, he saw officers and security personnel rushing inside, desperately trying to control the situation.
The air was thick with the sounds of car alarms blaring and the haunting hum of ambulances, creating a numbing background noise that lingered in his ears, damaged and raw from the blast.
Out of nowhere, the heavyset man from earlier lunged at him. Jacob felt a rush of adrenaline. He had no chance against the strength that adrenaline fueled within him.
“WHAT DO YOU KNOW? MY MOTHER IS IN THAT CITY, YOU BASTARD! WHAT DO YOU KNOW!?” the heavyset man shouted, his voice breaking with fear and desperation.
Before he could react, a punch from the man landed squarely on his face, nearly knocking him out. Jacob's life seemed to hang by a slender thread.
“I’m don’t… I… don…” he stammered, gasping for breath in the chaos.
“YES, YOU DO! YOU STUPID BASTARD! NOW YOU WILL TELL ME WHAT THE HELL THAT THING IS OR I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”
“Ple…ase… don’t,” Jacob managed to mutter as the large man pinned him down, cutting off his airflow.
“Oh, I WILL. AND IF YOU DON’T TELL ME NOW, I WILL MAKE IT HURT!” the man growled, his grip tightening.
“I o..nnly…inter..veiwed….the mi..n..ster…that…wa…it..”
“YOUR DEAD MEAT YANK.” The british man used both of his hands and grabbed jacob by the throat
Jacob fought for air, but his struggles were growing weaker. He was close to losing consciousness, and his life was about to be snuffed out by a stranger for doing… nothing. He hadn't harmed anyone, yet here he was, a target simply because he had appeared on television and interviewed their prime minister.
He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering his wife’s last words before he left his home. “Please stay home, honey. Spend time with our son. He barely knows you’re supposed to be his dad! Can’t YOU THINK OF YOUR FAMILY FOR ONCE?!”
At that moment, he uttered a silent prayer. “God, if you are there… if you exist, please let me see my family again. I beg you.”
“I want to see them again,” he thought, hope flickering in his heart.
And then it happened.
BOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM
A deafening roar erupted, a brilliant ball of light surged over the city, obliterating everything in its path. Jacob shut his eyes tight as the light engulfed him. Debris crashed down, freeing him from the heavy man’s grasp, sending him skyward.
For a moment, he felt a sense of freedom. But that freedom was short-lived as a vehicle descended from above, landing squarely on him, crushing him beneath its weight. A tiny sliver of light
Everything went black
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“In a previous interview, you mentioned that after the explosion and the subsequent rescue from the wreckage at Heathrow Airport, you managed to hand over the critical picture to high ranking officials in Nato in exchange for enough money to get you a ticket back to the States. Is that correct?” I glanced over at Shoemake, who was sitting on the other side of the table, taking long drags from his cigarette as he stared out of the window, lost in thought and despair.
“Yes, yes, that is correct,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. “I would have given anything just to see my kids and my wife again. After all, I made a promise following the incident.”
Jacob resumed smoking his cigarette, the smoke curling upwards, and I leaned forward in my chair, intrigued by what he might divulge next.
“Who exactly did you make this promise to?” I pressed, eager for more details.
His face broke into a broad grin, a genuine smile that seemed to light up the dim room, perfectly timed for the recording. It was as if the shadows around us receded, momentarily forgotten in the warmth of his expression.
“The Lord Almighty himself, Mr. Halagan.” A thick cloud of smoke drifted lazily above the table, momentarily obscuring his face and adding an air of mystery to the encounter. The smoky tendrils curled and twisted, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere that felt out of place in the otherwise drab setting.
“I never took you as a religious man, Mr. Shoemake,” I remarked, my surprise evident in my voice. My research had indicated that he had never mentioned such a detail in his other accounts or previous interviews, and I recalled the absence of any spiritual references in his past statements.
“A promise is a promise, Halagan,” he interrupted, his tone suddenly serious. “I never intend to go back on one, not after what happened. In a situation like that, you learn what truly matters, and I couldn’t let my word slip away, not after what happened and what he did for me.” The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and I could sense the gravity of his past experiences.
I walked over and shook his hand firmly, feeling the strength in his grip. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Shoemake,” I said, my voice steady despite the swirling emotions within me.
Mr. Shoemake rose from his seat, shook my hand again with a lingering intensity, and then left the building, his silhouette disappearing into the chilly evening air.
I was left there in the cold and silent abyss that was the office, the walls echoing with the remnants of our conversation. The atmosphere felt heavy, as if the shadows themselves were absorbing the last bits of our exchange.
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