by Griff Hosker
Hugo shrugged apologetically, “With the PM in there then it is security, security, security!”
I nodded, “Of course if I was here to kill the Prime Minister then I am not certain that two MP’s would stop me.”
I saw the Sergeant colouring and he began to rise up and down on his toes.
Hugo said, “The Major is just having a joke, Sergeant Haynes.”
“It doesn’t do to joke like that, sir! Even if he is a Commando with the V.C.”
I smiled, “Let us just say, Sergeant Haynes, that I do not wait well!”
The door opened and a major from the General Staff stood there, “Ah we heard voices, come in Major, come in Captain.”
There was a fog of smoke in the room. There were two tables. One had coffee, mugs, jugs and cups upon it and the other had just four people seated around it. Winston Churchill’s ‘Romeo y Julieta’ cigar provided the most smoke but the American colonel next to him was doing his best too. They looked like they were making a smokescreen. At the end of the table was an easel. It was empty. There were manila folders in the middle of the table.
Churchill looked up, “Young Harsker. You are the image of your father. He was about your age when I first met him in 1919. I can see, from your record, that you are a chip of the block.” He nodded to a seat, “I have read of your recent exploits. Quite remarkable.” He turned to the American, “I will leave the briefing to you, Colonel.” He stood and nodded to me, “When all this is over we must have a chat. You have had a good war. I would like to hear what you did from your lips rather than others.” Then he swept out of the room with the major from the General Staff, leaving me with Hugo, the American Colonel and an English Major of Intelligence.
The Colonel said, “Introductions first: I am Colonel Flynn. I am from Ike’s staff. This is Major Mowett, Intelligence and Captain Ferguson you know. Help yourself to a coffee, Major. You will need all your wits about you today!”
“Sir.” I went to the coffee pot. I saw that there were mugs and cups. I poured myself a mug of black coffee and returned to the table.
The Colonel chuckled as I came back, “Good. I like a man who knows how to drink coffee. Now, you will be wondering why we are here. It is quite simple. We have a spy at headquarters. Or rather, we have two spies. One in your Combined Operations set and one in ours, at SHAEF. That is why we are meeting here. This little group, your Prime Minister and General Eisenhower are the only ones in the loop.”
I drank some of the coffee and the Colonel puffed on his cigar as I took that in.
Major Mowett took a map from the table and went to the easel where he pinned it up. He reminded me of an older version of Hugo. He was slightly built and, when he began to speak I noticed a slight twitch over one eye. “If you open the folder in front of you, Major, you will see a picture of a V-2 rocket. The V-2 is the terror weapon the Germans have unleashed on London and other cities like Paris and Antwerp. They are impossible to stop. There is a cutaway drawing of one such rocket. They are complicated beasts but damned well made. They are made in underground factories. The bunkers are in Austria and Germany. The main one is close to a concentration camp at Mittelbau-Dora. However, there is a chink of light. Thanks to Operation Crossbow and the bombing of the Germans factories they have had to spread the manufacture of the parts out. One of the vital parts are the four graphite fins. They are internal. They are in the jet stream. To put it simply, the rocket cannot be directed without the graphite vanes.”
I finished my coffee. “Then bomb the factory where they are made.”
“We tried that. They are underground inside a mountain. As you can appreciate, the factory and the men making these fins are small in number. We know the town where they are being made and we have a good idea of the building but bombing doesn’t work. We have tried.”
The Colonel put the stub of his dead cigar in the ashtray, “So we sent in teams. First, we used the underground. They were captured and shot. So we sent some Rangers in.” He smiled, “They are based on you guys. We figured they would get the job done. That was when we discovered the spy. They were caught too. The end result was we handed it over to Combined Operations. They sent some Commandos in.”
Hugo said, “It would have been you, sir, but you and I were in the Ardennes. They sent in Captain Gregson.” I looked up. He had been a lieutenant when I had served with him. “When they were caught and shot then we knew there was a spy in our headquarters.” He waved a hand around the room, “This building. Other missions were compromised too.”
I nodded, “Hence all the MPs.”
The Colonel said, “Captain would you?”
“Sir.”
Hugo got up and left the room. The Colonel continued, “We are sending you and your team in. The difference will be that not even your Major Foster will know where you are.”
“Toppy can’t be the spy!”
“That may be true. I know the Major and he seems a decent chap but we don’t know. Everyone is under suspicion. We are creating a small section to support you. There will be just three of them. Captain Ferguson, a sergeant and a sergeant WAAF. The sergeant is on his way down to London now. We are billeting him here with the MPs.”
“What about the spies?”
“We have spy catchers infiltrating the offices. The Sergeant WAAF was not in the office when the last mission was compromised and so she is being moved out. Her replacement is a spy catcher. We will get our little mole but you have to get in to Germany and destroy the factory making these graphite vanes.”
The door opened. Hugo stood aside and I saw that the Sergeant WAAF was Susan!
The Major said, “I understand that Sergeant Tancraville is your fiancée. That is another reason for her choice.”
“But she will be in danger! If there are spies then they may try to harm her!”
Major Mowett shook his head, “The sergeant assigned to the section will be the bodyguard for both the captain and Sergeant Tancraville.”
“He will have to be damned good!”
“Oh he will be. He is a Commando.”
“With respect sir there are Commandos and there are Commandos.”
Hugo smiled, “How about one of your men? The Sergeant is Joe Wilkinson. His wound means he can no longer go on active service. Would he do?”
I subsided. Joe was as good as they came. I was still not happy, but I was less anxious. Susan caught my eye and smiled, “It will be fine, sir. I can do this.”
The Major said, “Now you will return to your unit. You tell them nothing about the spy, for obvious reason. You will be flown to Aachen. The plan is to drop you and nine of your men behind the Rhine. The factory is in a town called Hechingen in the Swabian Jura mountains. We are aware that it is winter. We believe that will aid you when you return back from Hechingen to the American lines.”
The Colonel had lit another cigar, “In early March, General Patton will be launching a major offensive in the south and Field Marshall Montgomery one in the north. If you can destroy this factory then our offensive should mean that they can’t produce more of these graphite vanes. A couple of those rockets could cause devastation to our forces; especially if they were at a bottleneck like a bridge. We believe that between now and the offensive they could build almost a thousand of these rockets. You and your team will stop them building them.”
“And how do we get out, sir?”
For the first time I saw doubt on the faces of the Colonel and the Major. Hugo said, quietly, “You and your lads will have to make your way through seventy five miles of German held territory to get to Strasbourg.”
It was a daunting prospect but I had options. “I get to pick my own team sir?”
“Yes, although you will take your whole section to Germany with you.”
Colonel Flynn nodded, “The Major is right. You will need your whole team over there. When this mission is over there is another one. We will leave the briefing for that one until you have returned from Germany. Until we catch thes
e rats yours is the only clandestine group we dare to send behind enemy lines. If we catch them soon then you and your men will be stood down. If not then after Hechingen you will be sent to take out another of their component factories. They have them all over Germany and Austria.”
At that my heart sank. Seventy five miles through enemy held territory was one thing but Austria was deep in the heart of the Third Reich. I would cross that bridge when I came to it. “Right sir. Then we had better get down to the planning.”
The meeting went on until after seven. There were many details to be ironed out. Susan and Hugo would be in charge of communications and support. Joe would just be the muscle. They had thought it through well. They had a newly built office in a part of the building which had been store rooms. With just one way in and one way out it would be secure. An assassin would have to negotiate a whole building which was teeming with MPs and then get past Joe. My former sergeant and Hugo would escort Susan to her barracks where they had increased the security. Then Hugo and Joe would return to their barracks in the actual headquarters building.
“So, Major Harsker, all your equipment is waiting for you, along with your men at R.A.F. Hendon. You leave tomorrow morning at 0600 hundred hours. After you land at Aachen you will be taken by lorry to a recently captured airfield some thirty miles from Strasbourg. Your aeroplane will drop you tomorrow night. You will have to familiarise yourself with the details between now and then.”
I nodded, “So we hit the ground running.”
The Colonel said, “That is another reason why you were chosen Major Harsker. You seem to hit the ground running so fast that the Krauts can’t catch you. Let’s hope it works again eh? There is a car waiting for you outside. The driver knows nothing so bear that in mind. He will drive you to Hendon.” He shook my hand. “Good luck, son.”
Major Mowett smiled, for the first time, “I am certain you will succeed this time. You were our first choice when Captain Gregson was sent in.”
“But he was betrayed!”
“Major, you are one of the few Commandos to have been captured by the Germans and escaped. You have a charmed life. You are like a cat. You seem to have nine lives.”
“Yes Major Mowett but I am using them up damned quickly. What about Sergeant Tancraville? Who will escort her home tonight?”
The Colonel said, “We rather thought you might. You have a car, don’t’ you?”
Hugo escorted us to the car. The driver, Corporal Harris was waiting patiently for us. “Don’t worry about Susan, Tom. You know I will look after her.”
I nodded and shook his hand, “And luckily it is Joe who will be watching over both of you.”
Once in the back of the car I gave the driver the address of John’s hotel. “I will have to pick up my gear. Poor Bates will have made everything just right and I am leaving.”
Oblivious to the driver Susan took my head in her hands and kissed me hard. Then she said, “At least this way I will know where you are, won’t I?”
John was waiting at the desk when we arrived, “Good to see you, sir. Will you want a room for the young lady too?”
“Sorry John. A change in orders. I have a car waiting outside. I am here to pick up my gear.”
He looked at Susan and shook his head, “No, sir, that won’t do. Albert go upstairs and pack for Major Harsker then take his bags to his car and give the driver a sandwich and a cup of tea.”
“Yes Mr Bates.”
John put his arms around the two of us and propelled us towards the dining room. “If you are going off again into the wild blue yonder then the least I can do, as your father’s former batman, is to give you a decent meal. We have a chicken casserole on the menu tonight. My treat!”
It was a delightful surprise and we both made the most of it. We tiptoed around the mission and stayed to safer subjects like Mum, Dad, the house and, inevitably, the wedding once the war was over. I did not mind for it meant I could defer having to think about the operation. I would need a clear head for that and talking about a wedding was just enough of a distraction.
It was nine o’clock by the time we finished. As John escorted us to the car he said to Susan, “Now you know where I am. Do not be a stranger. You are always more than welcome here. Tom here is as close to family as I have now. And you, my dear, are a delight. It would make an old man very happy if you came now and then for afternoon tea.”
She kissed him on the cheek, “I should like that.”
Once in the car I said, “Everything all right Corporal?”
“Too right, sir. A nice brew and a bacon sarnie! Drive you anytime, sir.”
When we reached Susan’s barracks, just before curfew, I was reassured by the four squaddies who were there. In the old days it had been just two men. The kiss and the hug were all too brief and then Corporal Harris whisked me away and I turned my thoughts to Germany and which men I would burden with a mission that could go horribly wrong very quickly.
By the time we had reached the airfield I had my team assembled in my head. I would have to take some of the new men. The file Hugo had prepared had given me the information on each of the new men. They had been selected because they had shown skills which raised them above other Commandos; language skills, explosives, hand to hand combat. Each of them would fit in well with my team. They would fit in well on paper. The reality of operating behind enemy lines meant that we could not know how they would be under fire. Ours was an unforgiving world.
Harris took my Bergen and gear from the boot. “You take care, sir.” He pointed to the Dakota waiting on the runway. “I think your next taxi is ready too, sir. Good luck.”
“Thanks Corporal.”
I strode towards the hangar beyond the transport aeroplane. I saw the familiar figure of Sergeant Major Barker having a cigarette. As I neared him he stubbed out his cigarette and shouted, “Ten shun! Commanding Officer!”
I smiled. This was for the new men. Gordy and I had worked together too long for such formality. I tapped his new uniform. “Congratulations, Gordy. Long overdue.”
“Thank you sir, Lieutenant Poulson told me that you recommended me.”
“No more than you deserve.” The new uniforms marked the replacements. I said, quietly, “What are they like?”
“Good lads in the main but we will have to see what they are like Jerry side eh sir?”
I looked around and saw that we had the hangar to ourselves. Polly had organised mattresses. This would be our accommodation for the night. “Best shut the hangar door and move to the middle. I have to brief you before we get on the bus.” We moved towards the centre of the empty hangar. I saw around the equipment we would be taking. I would get to that after I had introduced myself to the men and discovered a little about them. “Right lads I am Major Harsker. Normally we would have time to get to know one another but we are hitting the ground running. We leave tomorrow at 0600 and our mission begins tomorrow night. Starting on my right give me your name and where you are from.”
The first Commando was a big man, “Private George McLean, sir, from Newcastle!” The short e and long a told me that he was a Geordie.
“Private Reg Richardson, sir, from Durham, sir. I was a miner.” He had a similar accent to McLean although physically he was Different. He was much shorter. They had the look of a comedy double act.
“Private Samuel White, sir, from Norwich.” He looked too neat and tidy to be a Commando. Then I remembered that he had been a teacher in a private school and he spoke four languages.
The next Commando looked squat and broad. He had a mop of black hair and angry looking eyes, “Private Ralph Betts, sir, from Ebbw Vale. I am a Welshman, sir!”
“Rugby player, Betts?”
He beamed, “Yes sir, hooker!”
“Private Martin Fisher, Manchester sir.” Fisher looked too young to be enlisted. He had a real baby face.
“Private Wally Bond, sir, from Halifax.” His Yorkshire accent was so thick you could almost cut it with a knife.
“Private Gerard Pickles, sir, Ged. St. Helens.”
I looked at Gordy and Hewitt. “We met a couple of lads from your neck of the woods when we were in the Ardennes. They were in the East Lancashires. They like their pies.”
He grinned, “Aye sir, they would be Pimblett’s!”
“Private Eric Scott, sir from Cockermouth.”
“Good walking country Scott.”
He nodded, “God’s own country, sir.”
“Private Thomas Foster, sir, Haltwhistle.”
“Hadrian’s Wall, right?”
“Yes sir. We can see it from me mam’s back garden, like.”
“Private Stephen Ashcroft, sir, Falmouth.”
“I recognise the face. Have we seen you there?”
“Yes sir. Dad has the Three Fiddles in the town. It was why I joined up. I used to see you come in of a night when you were training. I know Reg Dean.”
“Well we will all get to know each other but first, the mission. Nine of you will be dropped with me seventy miles behind the enemy lines. We have to blow up a factory and then make our way back. The rest of you will be getting ready for a longer operation. We will be heading for Austria.” I pointed to the gear. “It is winter over there and they have snow. I am guessing we have snow suits in the bags. Three of us have used them before. They are handy. When I call out your name then gather around me and I will go through the mission. If anything happens to me then one of you takes over. The rest can pack the gear on the Dakota.”
This would be the hard part. I knew that I would be disappointing more than half of them. “Lieutenant Poulson, you will be my number two. Sergeant Hay, my number three.” I looked at Gordy. “Sergeant Major I need you to help organise the next mission. We will be four hundred miles behind enemy lines for that one.”
“Sir.”
“If you go and find the Flight Sergeant, we can get the Dakota loaded.”
He looked disappointed but he was an old soldier and he saluted, “Sir.”
