After dinner, they went to the bar; however, I declined and retired to my bed to get some well-earned sleep.
In the morning, I spent a good two hours relating my experiences to Colonel Thorpe and Major Richards. They spent more time analysing the feelings and state of mind I had experienced during the process than they did on what I had actually said.
‘What we tried to show you yesterday is how your body affects your mind when it is out of its comfort zone,’ the Colonel observed.
‘We got you drunk so that you would start off at a considerable disadvantage. You were placed in a hostile environment and were only wearing your underclothes. You also had no socks or shoes on. To make it even worse you had no option but to pee all over yourself and then you were doused with cold water.’
‘I felt intensely uncomfortable and at a great disadvantage. It was also a highly embarrassing experience when I peed all over myself and the floor.’
‘Was it made worse by not having anything on your feet?’ the Major asked.
‘Definitely, I felt vulnerable and exposed. I might as well have had no clothes on. I couldn’t have felt more naked, even if they had taken my underclothes off. It was a strange feeling and made me feel extremely threatened.’
‘It is all part of the process of breaking down your defences. If you ever get caught Markus, remember that they will try to humiliate you in whatever way they can. It is extremely difficult to be strong sitting there with no clothes on.’
‘It’s a darned good reason for making sure that I don’t get caught.’ I gave a wry smile.
By the time I was finished, the debriefing I had a totally different understanding of what I had been through. I had to agree with them that the only way that I could have gotten the experience was to be subjected to the mock interrogation. I was extremely grateful that I wouldn’t have to go through the process again.
For the next eight days, I worked hard perfecting my story. I now knew how word perfect I would have to be if I was going to survive an interrogation by an expert. My experience in the pale green room had sharpened my desire to learn.
On Saturday the 5th April, I was called into the Major’s office.
‘Do you think that you are ready to be sent back to Europe Markus,’ the Major asked me.
‘I am probably as ready as I will ever be.’
‘The Colonel and I have discussed your status in considerable detail, and we believe that you are as ready as you ever will be. We also have a favourable weather forecast for Thursday 10th April, which is the date that we have tentatively selected for you to leave. How do think that sounds?’
‘To be perfectly honest it will be a relief to be at the point when I can leave. I am ready to go.’
‘That’s what I hoped you would say. We have arranged for you to transfer to Poole in Dorset tomorrow. You will meet up with your old friend Sergeant Young, who is already there. He has found a boat for you, so that is why you are going to Poole. You need to get familiar with it. He will then be in charge of getting the boat and you to Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight. You will set out from there for France on the evening of the 10th April.’
‘That sounds really good. Will he do something with my personal things that I will have to leave behind me?’
‘Yes, he will bring all the items that you can’t bring with you back to us here and we will keep them for you.’
‘Will he be with me on the fishing boat that takes me across the Channel to Cherbourg?’
‘Yes, he will stay with you until you leave the trawler which will be close to Cherbourg.’
‘That takes a load off my mind. I trust him and know that he will make sure everything is under control, and he will do his best to make sure that I reach land safely.’
‘I will have a final meeting with you this afternoon to cover any remaining details, such as the process of getting information back to us here in Witley Park.’
‘Thank you Sir. I am very relieved to be under starter’s orders at last.’
I left his office and went for a walk in the grounds to get my thoughts straight:
Was everything going to go to plan or would I end up being shot as a spy? Did I have the knowledge and courage required to succeed as a spy? Was I doing the right thing in turning against my former country or should I just go back to my squadron and fly for Germany? Would my mother and grandfather in Lubeck brand me as a traitor or would they understand why I had changed sides?
My thoughts strayed to Francette who was now somewhere in France acting as an agent. I couldn’t let her down. She believed in me, and we had arranged to meet again when we were both back in England.
Then there was my twin brother Chris who had been killed last July. I had promised my father that I would work for the British because of my involvement in Chris’s death. For all their sakes, I had a duty to go through with it.
I returned to my room to pack, having convinced myself that I had made the correct decision.
Chapter 38
Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much that night as my brain was covering all eventualities, only slipping into a deep sleep around 4:00 am. I was shaken awake at 7:00 and had to rush to be ready to catch the train in time to get my connection to Poole. I had to take a train from the local Witley station to Woking where I changed for the Poole train. I just made it and arrived at Poole as arranged at midday where Sergeant Paul Young was waiting for me.
‘Good morning Sir,’ he said as he gave me a salute. I saluted back.
‘Good morning Sergeant. We meet again on the last leg of my long journey.’
‘I have booked us into a small hotel, close to where the boat I have purchased for you is moored. I have organized some lunch for us there and will take you on board afterwards.’
‘That sounds like an excellent plan. How do we get to the hotel?’
‘It’s within easy walking distance so we will walk if that is alright with you.’
As we walked through the town, I looked around me, lost in my thoughts. Poole was very different to any other places that I had previously seen in England. There was no bomb damage that I could see and all the old buildings, which oozed character, were remarkably well preserved. We emerged onto the quays where there were a lot of small boats moored. Poole appeared to be situated at the head of a large inland lagoon, and there was water as far as I could see. In the distance, at the far end of the lagoon, I spotted a narrow inlet which presumably was the outlet to the sea.
As we walked along the quayside, the Sergeant pointed to a yacht moored parallel to the quay alongside two other boats.
‘There’s the boat that you are going to use. It’s called Olympus and is twenty one feet long. It was made in 1928, so it is still quite seaworthy. I reckoned that it was perfect for the task in hand.’
‘It’s a lot bigger than the Firefly that I sailed on the Derwent Reservoir, and it even has a small cabin,’ I commented.
‘We’ll take it for a spin after lunch and see how you like it. After your experience of sailing the dinghy, you will find it remarkably easy to handle this one. Let’s hope that there is a decent wind later as it is a bit gentle at the moment.’
‘I would prefer to have a gentle breeze for my first sail.’
We passed a ferry terminal, and I noticed from the signs that the ferries went from the quay to Brownsea Island, which I was told was the large island I could see in the middle of the lagoon.
I dumped my bag in my room and joined the Sergeant in the restaurant of the hotel. Fortified by a particularly good lunch consisting of extremely fresh fish, I then changed, and we set off for my first sail in Olympus.
The first lesson that I learnt was, you don’t put up the sails in a larger yacht until you have left the mooring. I was shown every aspect of the boat including how to prepare the engine for starting and
what each rope was for. I was given the proper names for everything, but promptly forgot them. There was far too much to take in all at one session. After a while, I was just about able to come to terms with the fact that the left was ‘Port’ and the right was ‘Starboard’.
I also experienced the effects of a much larger current than I had met before. When we released the boat from its mooring, we were swept by a strong current away from the quay and towards the open water. There was a real danger that we would collide with other moored boats, and I was posted on the bow, to push off from any boat we got too close to.
Eventually we reached open water, and the speed of the current slackened off. I then learnt that you had to point the bow of the yacht into the wind before you raised the sails. The motor was switched off, and silence greeted us as we hissed through the water solely under sail.
‘Here you are Markus; you can take the tiller and sail the yacht. Head down the lagoon towards the exit keeping quite close to the shore as it is bit too shallow close to Brownsea Island.’
How much nicer this was than sailing the Firefly. I could stand up and look around me without the risk of falling over or capsizing. This yacht with its deep keel was in no danger of going over, and I felt a lot safer. Perhaps it would have been a bit different if the wind had been stronger.
We spent the afternoon sailing around Poole lagoon and by evening I was able to do everything on my own. We even dropped anchor to give me that experience.
Monday and Tuesday we set out early, returning to our mooring beside the quay late in the evening. The hotel supplied us with sandwiches, so we didn’t have to return for food and we were able to go out through the entrance of the lagoon into the open sea. Luckily the weather behaved, and we didn’t have any high winds to deal with. My stomach did react a bit to the movement, and I felt decidedly queasy on occasions; however, much to my relief, I didn’t have to deposit my food over the side. My enthusiasm for lunch wasn’t great, but I made up for it at dinner in the hotel.
On Tuesday evening, we took Olympus to a slipway, where the Sergeant had arranged for the boat to be placed on a trailer ready for transfer to the Isle of Wight on the Wednesday.
As the day approached for the start of my mission, I was getting more anxious. I had anticipated that I would find it difficult to get to sleep at night as I was mentally covering all the eventualities I was likely to encounter. To my surprise and immense relief the hours spent in the salt air cured my insomnia, and I slept the sleep of the dead. The few beers that I had each evening also might have helped.
On the Wednesday morning, an army lorry arrived, to take the yacht, and the two of us, to Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight. I was getting much closer to the hour of my departure for France, and now there were only just over twenty four hours to go. The lorry brought us to a slipway at Lymington, opposite the Isle of Wight, where we put the boat back in the water and from there we sailed to Yarmouth. For my last night in England, we stayed in a pub close to the harbour.
As we were eating dinner, at around half past seven, I got a very pleasant surprise. I smelt the scent of tobacco smoke approaching.
‘Good evening Lieutenant Bekker, do you mind if I join the two of you?’ It was Major Richards.
‘Of course you can. You are the last person that I expected to see out here on the island.’ I am sure that my face showed my surprise.
‘I like to see all my charges off on their missions after all the hard work I have put in getting them trained. You can take me for a sail tomorrow and show me how proficient you are at the helm of a yacht.’
‘You should be safe enough, he has been quite a good student and does remarkably well considering how tall he is,’ the Sergeant chipped in.
‘Can I buy you both a beer?’ the Major asked us.
We sat there in the pub for a few more hours talking about anything other than the War. I made sure that I kept my intake to a minimum, mindful of my recent experience of drinking with the Major.
In the morning, I was up at 7:00 and sitting having my breakfast when the other two joined me.
‘How are you feeling today Markus?’ the Major asked me.
‘I am slightly apprehensive about tonight, but other than that, I am in good form.’
‘Everything is going to go well. The weather is set fair so the only problem may be that you won’t have enough wind to sail the yacht to Cherbourg; however, you do have an engine and we will make sure that you have plenty of fuel.’
‘What is making me anxious are the unknown factors. What happens if they start shooting at my boat before they realise it is an escaping German pilot on board?’
‘I don’t see why they would shoot as they won’t see you as a threat,’ the Major replied.
‘Yes, but they will be surprised to see a yacht coming across the Channel from the English side.’
‘Once you tell them your story, their suspicions will be answered, and they will welcome you. You do speak good German!’ The Major smiled and slapped me on the arm. ‘What have you got planned for us today, Sergeant?’
‘We’ll give Olympus one last thorough inspection and then go for a sail up the Solent towards the river Hamble. We can have lunch in a pub that I know at Bursledon which is up the river.’
‘Sounds good to me Sergeant. I envy you guys and the so called work that you have to do swanning around in boats on the Solent.’
The Sergeant checked everything meticulously from bow to stern. The only problem he found was one halyard that was quite worn and which he reckoned needed replacing.
He called me over to show me the problem.
‘I will replace this rope for you as it could break if the winds get a bit strong. I will pick one up in a chandlers on the Hamble when we go there for lunch. I need to get you a rope that has a bit of age, so nobody recognizes it has been replaced. An escaping POW wouldn’t have been able to go and buy a new halyard.’
Seeing the check was over the Major asked, ‘Are we able to leave the harbour now Sergeant?’
‘Yes. I have finished the checks and everything, other than one rope that needs replacing, is looking one hundred per cent.’
He switched the electrics on and pressed the button for the engine. The starter engaged, and the engine turned, but it didn’t start. There wasn’t a single indication that it wanted to start. It didn’t take long for the battery to go flat giving us another problem.
The only alternative was to get the starting handle out and try to start the engine using that. Each one of us had a go, but no matter how hard we swung the handle the engine wouldn’t start. I was now in a position where my mission, starting that evening, was in danger of not having a boat to travel in.
‘Have you any bright ideas Sergeant as the situation is critical,’ the Major said, sucking on his pipe and looking forlornly at the engine.
‘Well, the engine was working perfectly up to last night when we moored here, so there can’t be much wrong with it.’
I climbed up onto the harbour wall and looked around to see if there was anybody who might be able to help us. On the other side of the river, I spotted a boatyard with the name Hales painted on the side of the building.
‘Major I have located a boatyard which is within walking distance, maybe they can help us?’
‘I’ll go and have a talk to them. Most of these places have been stripped of their expertise by the war, but maybe they have someone who was too old to be called up,’ the Sergeant said.
About half an hour later he came back towards the boat with an old man, who I hoped was a mechanic or someone who could get the engine going. The Sergeant was wheeling a trolley on which there were two batteries.
As they arrived on the quayside beside the boat, the Sergeant introduced the old man to us.
‘Major, Lieutenant, this is Sam. He is a mechanic and has offere
d to help us start the engine. We have brought two fully charged batteries to help in the process.’
‘I have also brought some new spark plugs and will fit those first before we try anything else.’ Sam said as he climbed down into Olympus. ‘The chances are that you simply flooded the engine, and the spark plugs are old and gave up the ghost.’
‘Let’s hope that is all it is,’ the Major added.
Sam connected one of the batteries, changed the spark plugs and pressed the starter button. After one cough, the engine came alive and blew a cloud of black smoke into the harbour. We were back in business.
Sam shook all our hands and left us to it, taking our flat battery to be recharged. The Major told him that as soon as they got back he would come and settle up with the owner for what we owed him. I was extremely thankful that the problem had arisen in Yarmouth and not when I was far from land and in need of starting the engine to get to France.
The rest of the day on the Solent went a lot smoother, and there were no further problems. We picked up and fitted a new halyard while we were moored for lunch on the Hamble, and we arrived back in Yarmouth by 5:00 pm.
As I came into Yarmouth, I noticed an old fishing trawler tied up to the Quay. I suspected that my means of transport to France had arrived. The Major left us and went over to talk to the skipper of the trawler.
There was a lot of nodding and smiles and then the Major came back over to us.
‘That is the boat that is going to bring you close to Cherbourg tonight. I have briefed him on what is expected of him and told him to leave at 10:00 pm this evening. That should take you close enough to Cherbourg to be released by 4:00 am which in turn will give him enough darkness to return to England by morning,’ the Major explained.
‘So, we are all set to go Major,’ I added.
‘Yes and the weather is still perfect for your mission. I am going to leave you now as I want to get back to Witley Park tonight and there is no need for me to stay here any longer. Just remember all that you have been taught, and you will come home safely.’
War Brothers Page 21
