War Brothers

by Patrick Slaney

  ‘Is that not dangerous as I have never sailed before, even though I lived right on the sea in Lubeck,’ I protested. ‘I only know how to row.’

  ‘Your story relies on convincing the Germans that you have escaped from a prison camp, have stolen a boat on the south coast and have sailed across the Channel for about eighteen hours,’ the Colonel added. ‘In fact you will be taken across the Channel in a fishing boat, which will tow your sailing boat. They will deliver you close to Cherbourg. We expect that one of their patrol boats based in Cherbourg will pick you up, so you won’t have to sail terribly far.’

  ‘I believe that sailing a small boat is quite a skill and also dangerous. I have rowed but never sailed, and I probably would capsize within a few meters of being released from the fishing boat.’

  ‘That’s why we have called you in here today Markus,’ the Major now spoke. ‘You are being sent to the North of England for an intensive sailing course where you will become a proficient sailor. You will also do your orienteering test in safer terrain than you experienced in Cornwall.’

  ‘Is it not still a bit wintry for sailing?’ I enquired.

  ‘We can’t do anything about the weather, but we are sending you to Derwent reservoir in Co. Durham which is a very large lake. You will get strong winds and waves without getting swamped,’ the Major replied.

  ‘Sounds good. When do I leave?’

  ‘You will depart on Saturday. You will take a train from London to Chester le Street with your friendly instructor Sergeant Paul Young, who will meet you in London. He is an excellent sailor as well as being an orienteering expert.’

  ‘When are you planning to send me to Cherbourg?’ I asked.

  ‘We want to try and get you organized by the 10th. April, but it will all depend on the weather. The winds mustn’t be too strong, and the waves too high for your sail in the Channel,’ the Colonel replied. ‘After you are finished in Durham you will go to Taunton where you will spend a few days in a Prisoner of War camp. At your de-briefing by the Germans you will need to give accurate details of where you were held as a prisoner and how you escaped.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of all that side of it. Will I have it all completed by the beginning of April?’

  ‘It will be tight, but you should make it,’ the Major replied. ‘We will not send you on your assignment until you are one hundred and ten percent ready.’

  ‘Is there anything in particular that you want me to do for the rest of this week before I leave for Durham?’

  ‘Yes, we will work together compiling ‘your story’ from the time that you were shot down until you escaped from the South of England in a small boat,’ the Major answered. ‘You will then have to learn it until it over-rides the truth.’

  ‘Now that it is getting closer to the time I have to leave I am getting nervous. I can appreciate how Francette felt just before she left for France.’

  ‘Just relax and put your whole heart into your preparation and everything will go smoothly,’ the Colonel suggested. ‘You are dismissed, and the Major will start with you this afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll come to your office after lunch Major Richards will that suit?’ The thought of an afternoon in a tobacco smoke filled room didn’t appeal to me.

  ‘Yes, I will see you then.’

  I left the two of them and went to search in the library for any books on sailing and the handling of yachts in general.

  The rest of the week flew by, and it was no time before I was waiting for my lift to the station on Saturday morning. I met up with my old tormentor Sergeant Paul Young at Kings Cross Station as arranged and we both boarded the train for Newcastle. It was great to meet him again even though the end of our time together in Cornwall had been so embarrassing for me.

  ‘Nice to see you wearing your trousers Sir,’ he said when I approached him.

  ‘And I don’t plan on losing them again this trip Sergeant,’ I replied.

  We had a compartment to ourselves for a lot of the journey, so we were able to catch up on what each of us had been up to since we had last met.

  At Chester le Street, we left the train and were joined on the platform by five other service personnel, who, after some discussion, we found were going to the same place as we were. An army driver came over to us and announced that he would be bringing us to Derwent Manor where we all were staying. He explained to us that the army had requisitioned the Manor as accommodation for military personnel training on Derwent Water. We all piled into his truck and set off.

  After about ten miles, he turned off the main road onto a narrow laneway which brought us to an impressive very large and well preserved old house. When we entered the reception area we were welcomed by a huge open fire which threw its heat to all corners of the room. We were all logged in and allotted our rooms. I was delighted that I was billeted on my own and didn’t have to share a room with any of the other service personnel.

  After a late lunch, the same old truck brought a large group of about fifteen people, including the Sergeant and I, to the sailing club where my training began. I was introduced to what was going to be my torture for the next week, a Firefly sailing dinghy. It was twelve feet long and close to five feet wide and weighed around seventy five kilograms, without me on board. The big advantage was that it comfortably could accommodate a crew of two, but could also be sailed single handed.

  The first two hours were spent in understanding the rigging of the boat and in putting on the sails. Just when I thought that we were never actually going to take to the water I was told to put on a life jacket, and we launched the boat with the Sergeant at the helm. The wind was strong, and we accelerated away from the shore. It was exhilarating, but I felt very insecure as any slight movement in the boat was transferred into violent action.

  Just as I was getting used to it and starting to enjoy myself the Sergeant told me that he was going about which he told me meant that we were going to go back in the direction we had just come from.

  He shouted, ‘Going about, Now.’ He pushed the tiller suddenly away from him.

  I let the jib go from the side it had been on and pulled it on the other side, and we quickly built up speed again. Just as I got settled, he shouted again, ‘Going About, Now.’ We went around one hundred and eighty degrees again.

  ‘You have to be quicker changing the jib Markus. We mustn’t lose too much speed.’ He barked out at me.

  ‘I am scared of falling in. The boat lunges from one side to the other and I am the ballast keeping it upright.’

  ‘Tomorrow I will get rid of that fear as we will deliberately capsize the Firefly and then get it back with the right side up. If you sail a small boat, you quickly learn to get wet and then recover from your ducking.’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of that even if I am a strong swimmer and don’t mind the water.’

  ‘You have nothing to worry about and you will pick it up very quickly. We will go in now and call it a day.’

  The following day we were out on the water early and after a few manoeuvres he announced that he was about to capsize the dinghy. As it turned over, he instructed me to climb over the side so as I was in the water alongside the centreboard. He turned the boat so as the sail, which was now flat on the water, was facing the wind. He stood on the centreboard, and the yacht started to come up. The wind caught under the sails, and the boat popped up rapidly. We both slipped over the side into the boat, and we were sailing again.

  ‘That wasn’t too bad Markus was it?’ he asked me.

  ‘I was amazed how fast it came up and with so little effort. Allowing the wind to do the work is brilliant,’ I replied. ‘But it is bloody cold, and my hands are freezing.’

  ‘We will do a few more this morning and then you can sail solo this afternoon.’

  ‘I am almost as worried about this as I was for my first so
lo flight.’ I smiled nervously.

  ‘At least if you fall in the water you won’t have far to fall, and your boat will stay with you. Never leave your boat as it won’t sink and all you have to do is hang on until you are rescued.’

  I’ll try to remember that.

  That afternoon I took the boat out myself under just the mainsail. I didn’t have the jib to worry about which made it a lot simpler. I got on remarkably well and didn’t capsize once. At the end of the session, the Sergeant instructed me to turn the boat over. He came out with the rescue boat, just in case I got into trouble.

  I had no difficulty in capsizing the boat, my problems started when I was in the water. What had seemed to be a straightforward operation yesterday, turned out to be extremely difficult. I couldn’t manoeuvre the boat to face in the right direction, and, without the wind lifting the sail, I couldn’t get the boat upright.

  He came close and shouted instructions at me. Finally I managed to get the boat pointing into the wind, and I stepped on the centreboard. As if by magic the yacht righted itself, and I was able to climb aboard. Very wet and cold, but triumphant, I gave the thumbs up to the Sergeant.

  ‘Well done Markus, that’s the first one; I want you to do four more before you can call yourself a sailor.’

  I muttered under my breath as I was already exhausted, soaked through and freezing. I started to wonder when hypothermia would set in.

  By the fifth time, I was quite an expert and was able to get the yacht upright in about four minutes. I received a round of applause from the rescue boat.

  I sailed the boat back to the shore and gratefully climbed out onto dry land. The Sergeant arrived shortly after me and gave me a hand putting the Firefly onto its trailer. We then pulled it into the dinghy park.

  ‘Well done Markus, you did remarkably well today. It will all be downhill from here on in, and you should start enjoying yourself. Tomorrow, weather permitting you can sail with the jib, and if you are successful with that you will have cracked it.’

  ‘I am looking forward to getting some dry clothes on and getting warm again. I presume I can change before we head back to the Manor.’ My teeth were chattering and my body shaking.

  ‘I think that they have some hot water in the sailing club so you can have a shower before you put on your dry clothes. I might do that myself.’

  It was two extremely tired individuals that were welcomed back by the huge fire in the reception area at the Manor and went to their respective rooms.

  Chapter 33

  We had a drink before dinner to celebrate my solo performance and the fact that I had survived another day on and in the water. Prior to being requisitioned by the army Derwent Manor had been a hotel, so all the facilities such as a bar and a dining room were in place and able to cater for the needs of about thirty trainees plus their instructors. There were open fires in all the reception rooms and the bar, supplied with logs from the surrounding grounds of the Manor. That evening there was a group of six army NCO’s who were obviously celebrating some achievement as they were getting quite drunk and making an unwelcome noise.

  Paul and I took our drinks with us into the dining room to escape the loud voices as it was the last thing that we wanted after a day on the water. About half an hour later two of the rowdy bunch came into the dining room and unfortunately, plonked themselves down in the two spare seats at our table. They insisted on talking to us.

  After a while, one of them looked straight at me.

  ‘Are you German?’ he said very aggressively. ‘You certainly sound German.’

  ‘I originally came from Germany some years ago,’ I replied, trying to act calmly.

  ‘You’re the cause of this whole f..king war,’ he shouted back at me.

  I noticed that my companion had moved his chair slightly away from the table.

  ‘I am a member of the British army and am on your side,’ I said firmly

  ‘We don’t want your likes on our side. I have lost good friends because of you and your fellow f..king countrymen,’ he shouted. His mate was trying to calm him down, but he was pushing him away.

  ‘I’m sorry that you lost your friends, but it had nothing to do with me,’ I countered.

  He stood up and moved towards me, obviously intent on taking a swing at me. Sergeant Paul moved into action and grabbed him in a vice like grip. He frog marched him out of the dining room and into the hall.

  Ten minutes later, my protective Sergeant returned to the dining room.

  ‘What did you do with him Sergeant?’ I asked him.

  ‘They have an old pantry that has no windows but has a particularly solid door that I was able to lock, so I put him in there to cool down and sober up. He will be better in the morning.’

  ‘I didn’t like to flatten him, although that is what I wanted to do.’

  ‘Better that you weren’t the one to subdue him as he would have seen it as proof of his view of Germans. He should come to his senses in the morning. He also served in Norway and lost a lot of his platoon there.’

  ‘I can understand how he is so bitter against all Germans, but it has shaken me up a bit.’

  ‘Yes, it has rather ruined our evening, so I am going to go to my room, and I will see you bright and early in the morning.’

  I also decided that I would leave the rest of my dinner and go to bed.

  The following morning the truck took us to the reservoir after breakfast. A strong wind was blowing and there was driving rain whipping across the water, making it particularly unpleasant. I wouldn’t have to fall in the water to get wet today; the rain would soak me through in ten minutes.

  ‘Well Markus, you will be going out with the jib up today. The wind is quite strong, but you should be able to manage. The main thing to remember is to let everything go if you feel that you are going to capsize. The boat will turn head to wind, and you can then start again.’

  ‘There are more waves today than yesterday,’ I said, looking at the surface of the reservoir.

  ‘If we were in the Channel I wouldn’t think of letting you sail, but the waves on the lake aren’t too bad so you should be able to manage. Let’s just see how you get on.’

  We launched the Firefly, and I climbed aboard while he held the dinghy. He pushed me off, and I was sailing with the wind directly behind me. I didn’t have much control over what was happening as the boat started to plane on the top of the waves. If I didn’t do something, I would end up at the other side of the reservoir and would have considerable difficulty getting back. I pulled in the main sail and the jib and slowly turned towards the wind. The boat lent over alarmingly; however, I used my considerable weight to keep it upright.

  I gradually came to terms with the strong wind and felt more comfortable, although there was no opportunity to relax. Spray was coming up from where the bow was cutting through the waves, and it was intensely cold. I was still struggling to get the jib under control every time that I went about, but I didn’t capsize the boat. So I was managing, but only just and all my attention was going into staying upright and surviving.

  An event then took place that changed the whole pattern of my morning’s sailing.

  I was travelling parallel with the land, about sixty meters from the shore. The wind was coming from the direction of the shore, so I was leaning far out with my back to the land. Just as I moved to throw the tiller over to go about I heard what sounded like the shot of a rifle. At the same time, a jagged hole appeared in my main sail. I was being shot at.

  I capsized the dinghy with the sail facing the shore, and I hid behind the hull, keeping as low as possible and hanging onto the centreboard. A hole appeared in the bottom of the boat as a second bullet found its mark. That was the motivation I needed to sink even lower in the water. Who on earth was shooting at me, and then I remembered the man who had sat down at ou
r table at dinner the night before. It must be him. I just hoped that the Sergeant had been watching me and quickly realise what was going on.

  I heard the report of another rifle, but no more holes appeared in my boat. I stayed put keeping the hull between me and the shore. After what seemed to me like hours I heard the support boat coming towards me. I was immensely relieved when it came around the hull, and I saw the familiar face of the Sergeant looking down at me in the water.

  ‘You can get your Firefly upright again now. I have dealt with the problem. Our friend from last night decided that he wanted to get rid of you. He has a lot more to worry about now as I wounded him quite badly.’

  I was too shocked to talk, but I just focused on getting the boat upright. Thankfully it popped up, but the holes made by the bullets meant that water was pouring in.

  ‘You had better hop into the safety boat with me Markus and we will tow the Firefly to the launching area. If you try to sail back, it will sink with your weight in it. Are you alright?’

  ‘Yes I am fine. Thankfully I wasn’t hit. What a crazy man?’

  I was so weighed down with my sodden clothes that he had to drag me into the support boat. There was a welcome party waiting for us as we pulled up to the slipway. I saw an army ambulance pulling into the car park obviously coming to pick up my wounded assailant.

  The crowd came over to give us a hand getting the boats ashore and they inspected the bullet holes in the floor of the dinghy. Where the bullets had gone through the hull, the wood had splintered on either side, and there were gaping holes at least six centimetres long. There was also a sizeable rip in the mainsail from the first shot.

  ‘You’re an extremely lucky man,’ Sergeant Paul Young said to me as he assessed the damage. ‘I must congratulate you on your prompt action in capsizing the boat. That saved your life as you were then hidden behind the twelve foot long hull and he didn’t know where you were.’