LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM

[Vice-Admiral Sir Francis Seymour VC CBE served as captain of the destroyer HMS Edinburgh for much of the Zombie War before serving as Rear-Admiral 2nd Coastal Defence Force and eventually Second Sea Lord during the closing stages of the War. He is currently writing his first book, The Zombie War at Sea: A Strategic Analysis. Despite his reputation and status as a national hero, he has a modest and slightly timid air and cradles a tumbler of water from which he takes careful sips every few minutes. I sit with the Vice-Admiral in the new Army and Navy Club on Piccadilly, the original club having been destroyed early in the Battle for London.]

We've always been the first and last defence of Britain. I must stress that is not a claim to superiority for my service over the others. [He smiles] Beyond that of the rivalries that are expected, of course. Damned fine work done by all service personnel throughout the War and afterwards.

Never the less, being an island nation, the Royal Navy has traditionally been the service most intimately involved with protecting our shores and interests overseas. The Zombie War, however, was rather different to any war previously fought by Britain. Not since 1688 has there been a successful invasion of Britain, something which we largely owe to what we in the Navy refer to as the Home Waters; the seas that surround Britain. Yet, initially, these seas did little to protect us from the inevitable.

At first glance, one might have thought that the island nations of the world had a natural advantage when the War began. In some respects, we did, but it cannot be denied that island nations have had rather a mixed bag.

[He gives a grim grin]

Cuba is, of course, the island nation par excellence, having used its isolation to its advantage and emerged as the leading superpower in the western hemisphere through careful application of military resources. They, however, had the luxury of a highly centralised political system and a relatively low population. Most European nations, unfortunately, it could be said, did not have either luxury during the Great Panic. Least of all Britain.

On the other side of things, we have Iceland. Far more isolated than either Britain or Cuba, yet was entirely impotent when half of Europe arrived, bringing the undead with them. It is still even now mostly overrun. After London was finally taken and large-scale operations on the UK mainland were completed, I was tasked with co-ordinating the naval blockade of Iceland, ensuring no refugees from Iceland slipped through our net without extensive at sea screening. It was considered a serious problem, due to the extremely high numbers of undead on the island. We even had a few isolated outbreaks in the north of Scotland long after London was taken, which were believed to have originated from Iceland.

The refugee crisis in Iceland during the Great Panic is testament to the power of the sea. People feel safe when they know an ocean separates them from danger, and so people, understandably, sought sanctuary on islands. The influx of peoples to the Caribbean and the Pacific, again, showed that. In the case of Cuba, when certain refugees were eventually allowed in, the safety promised by the sea did not disappoint. But for the hundreds of thousands of Europeans, many of them Britons, who sought sanctuary on Iceland, the small nation could not cope and their island paradise collapsed.

This, it is generally agreed, was primarily due to pre-War Iceland having no standing army and a tiny navy that was overwhelmed just days into the Great Panic. The importance of a centralised military government with extensive military materials available in protecting an island population cannot be understated. And unfortunately for Iceland, that deficit proved fatal.

One of the most interesting success stories, on the other hand, to which I devote considerable attention in my upcoming book, is Gotland. The small Swedish island in the Baltic Sea stood as a bastion of strength at a time when Finland and Russia to its east were overrun and Europe to its south and west struggled to contain the continental migrations of the undead. Although difficult to ascertain precisely what happened, due to many of the protagonists being killed or information being withheld post-War by the Holy Russian Government, [A flicker of annoyance flashes across his otherwise reticent face] it is clear that the Russian Navy seized control of the island in the latter stages of the Great Panic.

It is believed that the Russian Admiralty ordered the establishment of a safe base of operations in the Baltic Sea, with Gotland being the obvious choice. It was strategically placed in the centre of the sea, almost half way between the two major Russian naval bases at Kaliningrad and St. Petersburg, and so Russian ships blockaded the island and marines and paratroopers secured the island. This was achieved relatively quickly, as despite the swelling refugee population of the small island, the Swedish military could not maintain order and put up no resistance. Many on the island, in fact, welcomed the Russians and were relieved that a strong military power was devoting such military resources to protecting the island.

The Russian Admiralty was moved from St. Petersburg and re-established on the island, along with a great many Russian refugees from the old imperial capital. As the Russian army gave ground and retreated north and east towards Siberia, the Russian navy was strengthening its base to the west and successfully implemented a blockade of Gotland that prevented European refugees from entering the established safe zone, something that ultimately led to the collapse of Iceland.

The island itself served as a safe base of operations for the Russian navy in the Baltic and provided a military capability unrivalled in Europe and perhaps only outmatched by Cuba in the Caribbean. Much like Cuba, in fact, Gotland became an economic powerhouse and remains one of the most valuable states in the Holy Russian Empire today, providing Russia with undisputable control over the entire Baltic Sea region.

[He pauses and takes a sip of water]

Britain, however, was unlike any of those island nations I've just described. Not a Cuban or Gotland-style success story, nor a tragedy on the scale of Iceland, but somewhere in between.

At the time of the Great Panic, Britain was the third most populated island in the world, and undoubtedly one of the most densely populated. She was also one of the most visited and her airports, railway infrastructure and coastal ports were always at full capacity, doing business with the rest of the world. The English Channel, or La Manche as our French cousins call it, was the busiest shipping lane in the world before the War and the Royal Navy was tasked with protecting this vital artery of world trade.

However, as the Great Panic took hold and rumours became widespread, Britain was still open for business. The Prime Minister saw no immediate reason to restrict air traffic or shipping until it was far too late. I must say at this point that I have nothing but admiration for the Israeli government's foresight when they closed their borders. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but the decision to take such an extraordinary step during a time of uncertainty is highly commendable, and I can only wish that such a brave decision had been made in Britain.

[He sighs]

Well, such a decision was not made, and we had to make the best of the situation we faced. When things really started to get sticky and the Prime Minister abandoned London, I was still aboard Edinburgh, which was then part of what became known as Task Force Gamma. We were tasked with patrolling the Channel and turning ships away from our southernmost ports. The vast container ships from China were the real worry at that time. It was widely rumoured that this all had started in China and the Government ordered a blanket ban on Asian shipping from entering British Home Waters. It was feared that the container ships were full of refugees from China. [He pauses] We had to fire on a number of vessels to stop them breaking the blockade.

[He flinches as if remembering something and then composes himself and changes the subject]

My daughter Samantha was a lieutenant aboard the aircraft carrier HMS Invincible at the time, which served as the flagship of Task Force Alpha, which everyone called the Grand Fleet because it was based at Scapa Flow in the Orkneys, as in World War One. It was agreed at that point that the 'Grand Fleet' was the safest place for people of importance and would be the interim base for the British Government until they relocated to the Scottish Highlands.

My daughter told me of the shock when her ship was told that Her Majesty would not accept a helicopter extraction from Windsor. Everyone was shocked. Across the entire fleet. Across the entire country. It was a number of months later when the civilian leadership collapsed, when the Prime Minister died and the military filled the void, that many within the military were arguing that we should airlift her against her will. That decision was vetoed by Admiral Reynolds, who was head of the Supreme Command by then. He argued that it was Her Majesty's prerogative to decide whether she went down with her ship. Well, as you can imagine, few within the Navy argued against that. The best we could do was make regular supply drops to the castle.

Did you agree with her decision to stay at Windsor?

[He pauses as if gathering his thoughts and begins quoting quietly]

I would salute my lord—
the watch dog who protects our household,
the mainstay which saves our ship of state,
the lofty pillar which holds our roof beams high. 1

You'll have to forgive me. That's my classical education speaking. [He laughs] In short, yes. I agreed with Admiral Reynolds entirely. The decision to stay aboard is one of the most important decisions a military commander can make. As someone who has commanded one of Her Majesty's ships, I can attempt to emphasise with such a decision and I firmly believe it is the commander's decision and nobody else's. Besides, her example inspired millions of trapped citizens to carry on fighting.

I will never forget the jubilation when Windsor was finally taken during the Battle for London. Windsor had always been a monument of great national importance, but the retaking of the Castle marked for most the true beginning of the end of the War for Britain. I'll never forget getting the message. I was in Edinburgh at the time, which was still the acting capital. There were spontaneous celebrations across the city, huge parades put together quickly and chaotically. There were even street parties; the sort we had when the Second World War ended, or for the Queen's coronation. [He smiles]

How did you feel when the military formally took over after the Prime Minister was killed?

I felt relieved if I am perfectly honest. The Prime Minister's death was indeed a shock to us all, but many within the military did not lament his death for long.

Did you?

Again, if I am perfectly honest, not entirely. I lamented the death of a national leader, but not necessarily the man himself. He had created a lot of enemies in his treatment of certain military commanders after the Great Panic and his obsession with keeping beach heads open across the entire country was bleeding us dry.

Could you elaborate?

He demanded that the military create and maintain what he called 'vital safety lines' in all the major cities and towns of the UK; even in 'White Zones' that were completely overrun and beyond help at that point, such as Birmingham and Manchester. In those cases, he diverted precious military resources to opening such safe zones to ensure civilians had a place to escape to. However, despite the warnings of many, Admiral Reynolds chief amongst them, that such a plan was a complete waste of military resources and, in fact, would result in extensive military as well as civilian casualties, he would not listen. It took three months before he dropped the plan, after the 7th Infantry Brigade was completely wiped out trying to keep the last 'vital safety line' open in Manchester. [He shakes his head with a grimace on his face] Four thousand highly trained personnel wiped out overnight.

Even before the helicopter crash, there was talk amongst the officers of a power struggle. The Prime Minister and many within what remained of the Cabinet hadn't a clue about the situation on the ground or at sea. The many military defeats and disasters such as that at Manchester during that first year were almost entirely blamed on him.

There are some people who believe that the helicopter crash was not an accident but a successful assassination attempt organised by the military. What would you say to this?

[He turns his nose up as if reacting to a bad smell]

I find people who believe in such a claim to be naïve. He may have been unpopular with many within the military, but he had his supporters too. So, any elaborate conspiracy theories that claim there was a universal desire to, [he pauses] 'have him killed', are ridiculous. While some of his decisions were unpopular, he could not be considered to have been incompetent, despite his military mistakes. As I said earlier, hindsight is a wonderful thing, and one must be cautious when attempting to make sense of past events that are difficult to explain. Besides, that's just not how things are done here. One doesn't kill someone else simply because you disagree with them!

Besides, the aftermath was hardly what you would have expected if somebody had planned the Prime Minister's death. Parliament had essentially been dissolved as there were fewer than one hundred Members of Parliament at Supreme Command HQ in Scotland. The Royal Air Force and aircraft from the 'Grand Fleet' had tried to extract as many MPs as they could in those first few weeks but the total number was well below what anybody in government had hoped for. That's when the Supreme Command had been formed, combining military and civilian government to enable a functioning government to exist. And the Secretary of State for Defence had been killed early on, so it made sense for the military to assume direct control over military operations.

Anyway, Admiral Reynolds was legally elected into the position of head of the Supreme Command after the Prime Minister's death. He gained a majority vote by the remnants of Parliament as well as the Cobra Committee. In my eyes that is a legal endorsement of power. So, those people that claim the Admiral gained power illegally are entirely wrong and choose not to listen to the facts. The Admiral did an incredible job, in my opinion. Fully abandoning England and Wales, while it sounds ludicrous now, was probably the best decision he could have made. Instead of being spread desperately thin throughout the country, reforming the line at the Antonine Wall enabled us to concentrate our forces and use them effectively.

The first major advancement of the frontier was completing the retaking of Falkirk before moving on to Edinburgh and then Glasgow. In all of those battles the Admiral's tactical genius came to the fore. His combined deployment of infantry, armoured battalions, and the Royal Artillery alongside landings by the Royal Marines and naval support from the coast proved to be hugely successful. I was still captain of the Edinburgh then, and I remember the profound sensation amongst myself and the crew that we were instrumental in the retaking of our namesake city.

The Admiral directed the battle from his flagship HMS Ark Royal and he gave us the honour of leading the fleet up the Firth of Forth. Our first objective early that first morning was to help the infantry secure the Firth Bridge by providing light covering fire at the far side of the bridge, thus reducing the number of undead that came flooding onto the bridge. The fire and advance tactics worked wonderfully on the bridge and we managed to push them right back relatively quickly, with thousands being pushed off the bridge into the Firth. I'll admit I did not envy the infantry the sight of thousands of those buggers running in a seething column towards the front line. My view from the Edinburgh was obscured and I could only see the flashes of the machine guns and the bodies falling off the sides of the bridge. Bloody awful.

Once the bridge was taken we were to coordinate with the Royal Artillery and execute a rolling barrage on the outskirts of the city, similar to the tactics employed by commanders during the First World War. Our naval artillery was to pave the way for the land forces in the outskirts of the city as we tried to lure as many of the undead out of the centre of the city as possible. Once our troops were at the outskirts of the city, having already killed what seemed like hundreds of thousands of undead, the Edinburgh maintained the fire on the enemy positions before moving east in support of the Royal Marine landings at the docks of the city.

This was probably the riskiest part of the Admiral's battleplan as it almost entirely hinged on the infantry having lured as many undead out of the centre of the city into the surrounding hills. One of the landing sites had to be abandoned even before they landed, as thousands of undead became visible as soon as the fleet started opening fire on the area. Further up the coast the Marines had better luck and were able to hold beachheads which allowed further troops to be deployed in the heart of the city. With naval and air support, the beachheads were secured and expanded throughout the next day with Edinburgh Castle being taken, followed swiftly by Holyrood Palace.

The castle turned out to have provided sanctuary for hundreds of people. A friend of mine in the Rifles told me what a truly remarkable sight it was – like something out of an Arthurian legend or a Shakespearean play. As the infantry cleared the site around the castle, the inhabitants were waving flags and cheering above the din of battle, many of them in medieval armour! [He laughs] They opened the gates to our boys and girls like the liberating army they were. A truly exceptional moment.

The next day we had to repel a major counter-attack by the enemy, which at one point almost pushed us back to the castle itself. But with the Admiral having relocated HQ to the Palace of Holyrood, the combined defence held and the following morning Edinburgh was declared liberated. [He smiles] You can imagine the celebrations aboard my ship. One of our lieutenant commanders, a chap called McBride, was himself from Edinburgh and it brought the magnitude of our achievement home – the first major city retaken in Britain.

As part of the celebrations, myself and the crew of the Edinburgh paraded through our namesake city and we were welcomed as liberating heroes. We paraded alongside members of the Royal Regiment of Scotland outside the Castle. The Prince of Wales was flown over from the Isle of Man to officially proclaim the liberation of Edinburgh as well as the first major victory in the War of the re-conquest of Britain. That was a good day. [He pauses] Over the next five years, days like that were rare. Far too rare.

1 I later discovered this was a quote from the Ancient Greek tragedy Agamemnon by Aeschylus, 896-8.