by Iain Gale
Lamb said nothing. There was nothing to be said.
It was 8 p.m. At a crossroads five miles to the east of Rouen Kessler stopped and peered out of the hatch. The tanks’ engines were idling. They had come so far so quickly that he had decided it was time to let them cool down before they seized up.
His sergeant called up to him from the roadside, ‘Sir, we could go on and take Rouen. It’s there for the taking.’
‘No, Hans, I have a better plan. I have permission from General Hoth to take the bridges at Elbeuf. That’s fifteen miles south west. The French and British will expect nothing to happen there, so that is where we will attack. It will take five tanks. Just five and a motorcycle company.’
Six days’ rest they had enjoyed – their prize for rolling up the French at Lille. He was restless now. General Rommel had been honoured with a Knight’s Cross and now Kessler had one thought in his mind. He might have been beaten to the coast but he would be first to the Seine. Then they would sweep round and trap what was left of the British with a sickle stroke to the sea. And that would be that.
Chapter 18
Lamb was awakened the following morning by a strange and alarming noise. For a moment he wondered what it was, and then through his semi-conscious state it became clear. Somewhere outside someone was playing the bagpipes. He turned over and felt a soft, smooth, naked back and pushed against it with his own body, relishing the warmth.
She sighed. ‘Are you awake?’
‘Yes. That bloody noise woke me. Didn’t it you?’
She laughed. ‘Your Scottish soldiers will wake everyone with that. I like it.’
‘I’m afraid I have to get up before anyone knows I’ve been in here. Against King’s regulations, and not good for morale.’
He climbed from the bed and began to dress, hauling on his battledress trousers and braces and then buttoning his flies and his shirt before turning back to her. She had rolled over in the bed and was looking up at him half-naked, and seeing her like that and gazing into her eyes Lamb was temped to throw himself back onto the bed. But he managed to steel himself and carried on dressing, looking away, saying nothing.
‘Peter.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Peter, you will take me back to England, won’t you?’
He stopped. It was not something of which they had spoken before, and he had been putting off the thought.
‘I don’t know. I can’t work out what to do.’
‘You know I can’t stay here, darling. The Boche will have my country, and now I have no one to live for. No one but you.’
He froze. Of course he wanted to take her back. But what then? Did she expect to get married? He was not sure if he was ready for that again, if indeed he wanted it at all. But he knew that she was quite right: to stay in France would be the end for her, and he could not let that happen. In any case, to be parted from her now . . . He looked at her. ‘I’m sorry. Can we talk about it later. I’ll be late for the men.’
She smiled and nodded. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rush you. Don’t worry. We can talk.’ She looked down at the floor, but he crossed the room, bent down, lifted her chin and placed his lips against hers.
Then he turned and walked to the door. ‘I have a feeling the General’s going to move from here today, so I should get dressed now. I promise I won’t be long.’
Downstairs the Divisional HQ was in uproar. Officers and men seemed to be rushing in all directions to no apparent purpose.
Lamb stopped one of them. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Haven’t you heard, sir? Jerry’s broken through. He’s only four miles away. We’re moving back.’
The man broke away, and Lamb rushed outside to find his platoon. They had been billeted in the gardener’s cottage and he ran across to it and pushed the door open. They were inside, cleaning their weapons, shaving and eating.
Smart looked up. ‘Wondered where you were, sir. Fancy a brew? I’ve just got one on.’
‘No time. Come on. There’s a flap on. We’re moving out. Jerry’ll be here in an hour. Less.’
They stood up. Stubbs wiped the soap off his chin and Smart poured away the tea with a dejected look.
‘Where are we going, sir?’
‘Damned if I know, Mays. But I’m going to find out.’
He left and ran across the yard to where a gunnery sergeant was supervising the transports pulling out of the farm courtyard to the rear.
‘Any idea where we’re headed, Sarnt?’
‘We’re off to another ruddy big house, sir. It’s about fifteen miles due west. La Chaussee, it’s called. Want a lift?’
‘I’ve eleven others with me.’
‘Not a problem, sir. You can all get in one of the ammo trucks. Course, if it gets hit you’ll all go up like Roman candles.’
‘We’ll take our chances. Rather that than get nabbed by the Jerries.’
He saw Bennett across the yard. ‘Sarnt, we’ve scrounged a lift. Round up the men.’
Lamb ran back into the château, and as he was about to run up the staircase a voice stopped him in his tracks.
‘Mister Lamb. Good morning.’ General Fortune was standing at the foot of the staircase with his batman and three staff officers. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Very well, thank you, sir.’
‘My piper woke you?’
‘Yes, sir. It was very nice.’
‘Don’t be soft, man. It wasn’t nice at all. But it woke you up. Stirred the spirits a bit, I’ll bet, even for a Sassenach. You know we’re pulling out of here?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You are coming with us?’
‘Yes, sir, of course. Just getting my kit.’
‘Good. I’ve come up with a job for you, Lamb. But it will wait until we get where we’re going. See you at HQ.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Lamb’s mind was racing. A job for him. Oh dear God, he prayed it wasn’t another mission to deliver a message. He was fed up to the back teeth with being a runner for the high command.
They rattled around in the ammo truck for two hours. No one spoke much. Valentine cracked a joke, and then even he was silent. At length they stopped and the engine died. Lamb climbed down from the back and saw that they were parked in a courtyard very similar to the one they had left, with a large château dominating the place.
The driver came round the back of the truck. ‘There we are, sir. Just like home. Everybody out.’
As the men and Madeleine clambered down from the truck, a staff car roared into the courtyard and pulled up dangerously close to him. The rear window was wound down and Lamb found himself looking into the face of General Fortune.
‘Glad to see you found it, Lamb. Off to a conference. Come along. You’ll find it of interest. Simpson will take you. Drive on.’
As Fortune rolled away and out of the gate, another staff car arrived, open-topped this time, driven by the aide-de-camp, a captain in the Grenadiers. ‘Hop in, Lieutenant. The general wants you there, for some reason.’
Lamb turned to the men, exchanged glances with Madeleine and climbed into the car. He looked at his watch. It was five p.m.
An hour later he was standing in a stiflingly hot room in the elementary school of the town of Arques-la-Bataille, temporarily transformed into the HQ of 154 Brigade. The room was filled with officers, mostly major and above. They were standing in convivial groups and chattering, and Lamb felt not a little out of place. The evening sun beat down through the windows, and Lamb looked around at the room, which seemed to have been largely untouched by the war as yet. The walls were covered with posters explaining sums and how to tell the time. There were images of foreign places, including one of London with Big Ben and Buckingham Palace and another of the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin. Lamb stood at the rear of the room, trying to blend into the sea of field officers, but still felt uncomfortable. He wondered why the General had asked him, a lowly lieutenant, to attend a staff conference, and could only conclude that it must ha
ve something to do with the task that lay ahead.
A familiar face came weaving through the crowd towards him. Colonel Honeyman clasped his hand. ‘Lieutenant. Good to see you again. Thought we might have lost you.’
Lamb looked at him sheepishly. ‘Hello, sir. I’m most terribly sorry about leaving you. I had to grasp the moment. Did Lieutenant Crawford explain?’
‘Of course. I have to say that I was more than a little angry when I found out, but when Crawford told me about the message and how vital it was I quite forgave you. Is that what this is about?’
‘Yes, sir, I presume it is.’
So Crawford had told Honeyman about Le Havre. Well, Lamb was not sorry. Perhaps it had saved his bacon.
Fortune banged on the schoolteacher’s desk at the front of the room and, having silenced the officers, began to speak. ‘Gentlemen, I have an announcement to make. Contrary to what some of you might think, this Division is no longer making for Rouen. We had hoped to establish another line across the Seine, but it seems now that will not be possible. So we’re falling back in the direction of Le Havre.’
There was a buzz in the room, and murmuring.
Fortune raised his hand and all fell silent. ‘I have received a message informing me that the Royal Navy has plans in hand to send nine destroyers and numerous smaller vessels and if necessary evacuate the 51st from Le Havre, just as they managed so wonderfully at Dunkirk.’
A ragged cheer.
‘So as from this moment we are making for Le Havre, and then home.’
A huge cheer. Fortune smiled.
‘I have come up with a plan to hold the Germans in the east, and as it seems more than likely that they will arrive at Le Havre ere long, another plan to safeguard the security of the port, prior to our embarkation.’
He paused and pointed to a staff officer standing on his right. ‘I’m creating a force for that purpose under Brigadier Stanley-Clarke, here. This force will take position between Fécamp in the north, here,’ he pointed to the map, ‘and Lillebonne in the south, here. It will comprise the 6th Royal Scots, 1st Kensingtons, 17 and 75 Field Regiment RA, three companies of sappers and any other unlucky odds and sods whom we might deem to be a help to it. We’ve called it Ark Force for two reasons. One, it’s been formed here at Arques-la-Bataille, which as you all bright historians will remember is the birthplace of William the Conqueror and thus a good omen for getting us all back across the channel.’ This brought a laugh from the officers. ‘The other is for the obvious reason that I do feel a little bit like Noah, and I intend for you all to go in two by two.’
There was another huge burst of laughter and applause this time, but Lamb could hear its hollowness.
Fortune waved away the laughter. ‘I have sent a message to the Prime Minister asking for all spare fighter aircraft to be despatched to us. The Navy too is doing everything to embark us from le Havre. Admiral James is sending nine destroyers from Portsmouth. In fact I’m told they may well already have arrived at the Le Havre estuary. The French estimate that it will take three nights to get us all off.’ He paused, aware of the impact his next words would have. ‘And we plan to start the embarkation on the 13th.’
A silence echoed through the room.
Someone coughed, Lamb could not see who. Another officer asked the question they were all asking themselves: ‘Isn’t that rather late, sir?’
‘Yes, thank you for that question. Well, it’s not my place to comment, but that is the schedule that’s been set by the French commanders for their own men to withdraw, and as you know I’ve always said that in the order of battle here the French have the ultimate word. So that’s the date were going with. I have agreed to it. Don’t forget that quite apart from the Division and all the other chaps who’ve pitched up here, we are also embarking whatever we can of the French IX Corps. We’re all in this together, after all. The main point is that Le Havre must be defended.’
They left the room, and Honeyman turned to Lamb. ‘Well, I’ll be blowed. I know the old man’s loyal to the end. To the French, I mean, as well as us. But well, you heard him. The 13th? That’s just absurd. By then we’ll all be in the bloody bag, if you ask me.’
‘I suppose we can’t be seen to be disunited, sir.’
‘Yes. I dare say you’re right, but it’s going to be a damn close call. See you in Le Havre, Lamb.’
‘Sir.’
As he was passing Lamb, Fortune turned to him and stopped. ‘Lieutenant Lamb? There you are. Enjoy that? Thanks to you, you know. Well done. As a reward I’m sending you and your men with Arkforce as part of A Brigade. You should feel at home with them. We’ve made it up from all sorts: two battalions of the Argylls, what’s left of them, 4th Black Watch, the 6th Royal Scots, and A Brigade. That’s you now. We need every man we can get, and they’re a real hodgepodge. No offence, laddie. In fact I think we need chaps like you with them. You’ve only ten men, so I’m giving you a composite company: Norfolks, Kensingtons and a few stray Highlanders. You’ll be brigaded with the Sherwood Foresters and the Buffs.’
Lamb stared, dumbstruck. Promoted again to company commander. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Oh, don’t thank me, Lieutenant. Just take your command, and do your utmost to stop the Jerries from taking Le Havre.’
Fortune turned to go. Lamb coughed and Fortune turned. ‘Yes, was there something else?’
‘The girl, sir. The French girl who is with us. Can I leave her here?’
Fortune looked at him. ‘This is not a hotel or a hostel, Lieutenant. Has she no home to go to?’
‘No, sir. That’s just it. Her parents were shot by the SS. She only just escaped.’ He thought. ‘She’s really a very good medic, sir.’
‘I shouldn’t do this but as it’s you, Lamb, yes, the girl can stay. She can travel with the GHQ signallers, in their truck. But the slightest problem and she’s out, Lamb. Right, you’d better get going.’
The journey back to the new HQ at the château of La Chaussee was uneventful and silent, and having thanked Captain Simpson Lamb crossed the courtyard and found Bennett and the others. ‘Well, we’ve got our matching orders. We’re off to defend Le Havre. The general’s getting everyone out. At least that’s the plan. We’re off back to Blighty.’
There were cheers and smiles, and Bennett said, ‘Very good, sir. I’ll say, that is good.’
‘Have you seen Miss Dujolle, Sarnt?’
‘She’s up in the big house, sir. With some of the brass hats.’
Lamb nodded, ‘Wait here. I shan’t be long.’
He had known that at some point he would have to leave Madeleine, and he had known that it would be hard, but he had not imagined it would feel like this. Lamb cradled her head against his chest and ran his fingers through her dark hair, watching how the locks fell around them, savouring every instant. She said nothing, but her sobs throbbed against him.
‘I’ll be back. Very soon. And then we’ll get away. Together.’
‘Don’t lie, Peter. You are going to fight and I am staying here with the general, as you said. And who will get away first? Your general. Isn’t that how it is? And he will take me with him, as you said, and I will leave you here.’
She began to sob again.
‘No. No I promise you. Of course you’ll get away, but I’ll come back for you. We’ll go together.’
She raised her head and looked into his eyes. ‘Promise?’
‘I promise. I promise that I will not leave France without you. There. And I never break my promise.’
She smiled. ‘Thank you. Though I don’t think I believe you.’
He pressed her to him and held her hard, as if it were for the last time. Finally she broke away, and, reaching into his pocket, he offered a handkerchief, which she took to wipe her eyes. She looked at him and managed a smile. ‘Go on. Go to your men. They’re waiting.’
Reaching down, Lamb kissed her and then quickly pulled away and turned, not wanting to look back and knowing that she would be looking at him
until he was out of sight.
He found Bennett and the men where he had left them, outside the main entrance. With them now, though, were other men: a good forty of them, he supposed, in a variety of headgear. Bennett was talking to one of them when Lamb appeared and nodded towards him.
The man turned and saluted. ‘Sergeant Buck, sir, Royal Norfolks. Orders to report to you, sir.’
‘Yes, Sarnt. Well done. It seems that I’m to be your new commanding officer. For the present, at least. Who else have we got?’
Bennett said with a sigh, ‘Well, sir, there’s five from the Norfolks, including Sergeant Buck here, a half dozen of the Kensingtons, a couple of lads from the Buffs, four Royal Sussex and twenty-odd from the Cameron Highlanders. Thirty-seven all told, sir.’
Hardly a company thought Lamb. More an over-strength platoon. Still, a company was what Fortune had given him, so a company they were, and he a brevet captain by default.
‘And the ten of us, Sarnt. That’ll do. How many NCOs?’
‘No sergeants, sir, save me and Sergeant Buck. One corporal of the Norfolks, and a lance-jack from the Camerons.’
Lamb thought for a moment. ‘We’ll make two platoons: number 1 under you Bennett, the other, number 2, under Sarnt Buck. You’ll have our mob, less Corporal Valentine. I’m lending him to Sarnt Buck’s number 2 platoon. All right, Valentine?’
The reply came in a weary drawl. ‘Very good, sir.’
‘Transports should be here any minute, so get yourselves ready. We’re off to the seaside.’
* * *
It was forty miles to the little seaside town of Fécamp and fully three hours before Lamb and his men began to enter the outskirts. They were travelling in four open-topped Bedfords and Lamb had at first been worried that the German bombers would have a field day, particularly as the road they had taken was so packed with refugees that their advance was dangerously slow. But as they advanced down the crowded road the sky began to darken, even though the sun was high in the sky. Looking up, he saw that it was covered with a huge cloud of smoke, and with it came a smell. The stench was cloying, catching the back of the throat like tar. Lamb knew at once what it meant: burning oil. He looked south, whence the cloud seemed to be emanating, and saw more smoke curled up in a thick black pall hanging in the sky like some biblical portent. Le Havre. The Germans were bombing the port and must have set fire to the giant oil refineries there. Lucky for them. Otherwise, he thought, the Stukas would have been on them.
