by Griff Hosker
“Give him a hand, Hewitt.”
“Sir.”
I knew the two of them needed more time to recover from the Battle of the Bulge.
“Lance Sergeant Fletcher, you will be on the radio.”
“Great sir!”
“Lance Sergeant Beaumont, explosives.”
“Sir.”
“Corporal Emerson, I have a feeling we may require your skills with motors.”
“Right sir.”
I turned to Peter Davis. He had been badly wounded on D-Day. “Peter, are you up to this?”
“Yes sir. I am raring to go. Do I need the Mauser?”
I nodded, “And if we have one, one with a silencer.”
“We do sir. Quarter Master Grant found one for us.”
I turned to the new men, “You new lads, Scott, White and Foster. You will make up the rest of the team. Which languages do you have White?”
“French, German, Italian and Hungarian sir.” He smiled, “Mother was Hungarian.”
“That might come in handy. The rest of you give the Sergeant Major a hand. My team front and centre.”
I gathered them around me and told them the details of the mission. “Now we have a rough idea of where the factory is situated. By rough idea I mean we know to within a hundred yards. The trick will not be blowing it up. I have no doubt that Beaumont can manage that. The hard part will be escaping afterwards. Lieutenant Poulson you will have Emerson, White, Scott and Foster with you. Your job will be twofold: firstly, to get us transport out of there and secondly`, to watch our backs while we do the business.”
Beaumont said, “It is underground then sir?”
“It is.”
“Then I am assuming that they bring these fins up and load them on to a vehicle of some kind to take them to their assembly plant. We don’t have far to look for vehicles and it will keep us all closer together.”
“Good thinking. I can see the promotion was justified.” I handed them a piece of paper and a pencil. “Here is the map. Make your own copy. If anything happens to me then you lads will have to get out by yourself.” They began to copy my map. We had found this the most effective way of doing it. By copying the map it, somehow, made it easier to remember. “And one more thing. This is important. You have all seen what a V-2 can do. We have a chance to stop them. If they don’t have the fins then they can’t fly!”
Chapter 2
The pilot waited until I had sent my men off to check their equipment. “Flight Lieutenant Ryan. I will be your bus driver for this op.”
I saluted him, “Pleased to meet you, Tom Harsker.”
“Is your father…?”
I nodded, “Yes, he is.”
“Then we will treat you with kid gloves.”
I laughed, “We are Commandos; we bounce.”
“That is good to hear. We will be your bus over to France and then we will drop you over Germany. Our orders are to wait for you. You have a second mission coming up?”
“We may have. What will the flight time be?”
“It is just over four hundred miles sir. By the time we get upstairs and tootle along then I think three to four hours. Depends on the winds. Then after we get some shuteye we take you up again at 2300. That will just be a short hop. Forty five minutes or so.”
“Will the snow bother you?”
“Not in the air and we have been told that they are keeping the runway clear. There are lots of Dakotas coming in with supplies.”
“This mission is top secret. Tell no one where we are going. When we take off from France you don’t tell them our target. Nor do you tell them when you get back.”
“Really sir?” I nodded. “It is serious then?”
“If I told you who was at my briefing then you would know how serious. Impress on your crew too. Loose lips and all that.”
“Sir.”
“Right then I will get my head down. Let me know when you want us to load our gear. You are the boss.”
Lieutenant Poulson came over, “Beaumont has the explosives and timers sorted out and Fletcher has the radio. It looks to be a fairly powerful one.”
I nodded, “This is important. I will tell you more when we get to France. Did you bring the German ordnance and uniforms?”
“Yes, sir but will we be able to carry them?”
“We will take the field caps. With the white snow suits we should be able to blend in. I am going to take my Colt and the rest will be German weapons. We picked up ammo in the Ardennes. I want the team splitting up so that there is a German speaker with each group of men. You have Private White with you. I will have Fletcher and Beaumont. Divide the others up between you and Bill. We have never been this far behind enemy lines since Africa.”
He nodded, “And we lost more men there than any other operation. Point taken, sir. How long will we be behind the lines? I am thinking of supplies.”
“Better take supplies for five days. If it is longer than that then we will have to forage.”
“I will go and get them sorted.”
I waved Fletcher over, “You have the call signs and times?”
“Yes sir.”
“Remember the times are English time. I want your watch set to that time. It is important.”
“Yes sir and thanks for the promotion. The extra money will come in handy. I am walking out with a girl. When this lot is over I will be getting married.”
“You Fletcher? I had you down as the kind of chap who plays the field.”
“I did, sir, but I know a winner when I see one!”
I had done all that I could and so I lay down on one of the mattresses and pulled a blanket over me. I was asleep almost instantly. After this I would be sleeping with one eye half open!
“Sir, it’s time.”
As I opened my eyes I heard the buzz of conversation and the smell of fried bacon. Gordy stood there with a plate full of bacon sandwiches and a mug of tea. He grinned, “Now that I am a sergeant major I thought I should have a crack at the tea.”
“Cheers.”
I sipped the hot sweet concoction. “Perfect. Reg Deane would be proud!” I took a bite from my sandwich. They had dipped the bread in the bacon fat so that it dribbled down my chin. I knew we would be on rations after this and I made the most of it. “Everything loaded? Remember we need everything for two missions.” I took another two sandwiches from the pile.
“Yes sir. Barring the kitchen sink I think we are sorted.” He handed the plate to Fletcher who was hovering nearby. “So I plan the next mission sir?”
I wiped my hands on the napkin Gordy held out for me and picked up a manila folder. “For your eyes only, Gordy. This is the target and my outlines for what we need to do. You and the lads need to familiarise yourself with the terrain. We are about as far east as we can get. This is top secret. A couple of other missions have come to grief. It was either spies or careless talk. Let’s eliminate the chance of that.”
“What about when we are over there, sir? Won’t we be asked questions?”
“I have a letter here.” I took it from the manila envelope. “It gives us the highest authority. They have given us an old hangar. The Luftwaffe used this field before they fled. Make it like a fort. We cook for ourselves and you will organize the sentries. It will be good for the new chaps. The rigour should put them on a war footing.”
“Right sir.”
Having finished the food and the tea I said, “Right, Sarn’t Major, get them on board eh?”
“Shake a leg you horrible lot! Time is wasting. Get aboard! Chop, chop!”
I picked up my Bergen and my greatcoat. I had an MP 34 with me. I had plenty of ammunition and it was a reliable weapon. I had picked it up in the Ardennes. I liked the Tommy gun but .45 ammunition would be harder to come by on the other side of the Rhine. As the last of the men disappeared through the hangar door I had a quick check around. There was no paperwork left. Apart from the cups and the metal plates from the canteen, there was no sign that we had been
there. I stepped out into the sleet, snow and rain. I consoled myself, as I pulled up my collar, that it would be worse in the Swabian Jura. Gordy and Flight Sergeant Wilson waited at the small ladder. I stepped inside and they followed.
A C-47 could accommodate twenty eight men. Although we only had twenty we had plenty of supplies. It would be somewhat cosy for the three hour flight. As I moved down to the seat Sergeant Poulson had reserved for me I checked that the Dakota had been fitted with a rail for the parachutes. It was small details like that which invited disaster. It had one and, from the look of it, it had been well maintained. I took my seat and fitted the lap restraint. When we had travelled on the Sunderland we had been able to talk while in the air. The C-47 was noisy. Talk would be almost impossible.
When the door closed the interior became almost black. The pilot switched on the red light which made the interior look strangely hellish and then I heard the two huge Pratt and Whitney engines as they roared into life. The old hands closed their eyes but the newer ones looked around nervously. They had probably only been on a parachuting course and never been on an actual mission. They were going to war and the first time was always hard.
I didn’t sleep. Instead I took out the maps and aerial photographs of the site. The R.A.F. had tried to bomb it but the conclusion was that it would be counterproductive. There was too great a risk of civilian casualties with little chance of destroying the underground complex. I also read the sketchy reports of the previous failed missions. The resistance had found the factory and they had been dropped the supplies to do the job. When they were all caught so easily it should have made the planners warier. The second and third ones had done as we were going to do. They had dropped in and then hiked from the west. Once again they had been stopped before they could even reach their target. Our orders were to emulate them. I had already decided to override those orders. We would come in from the east.
I had seen a forest to the east and farmland to the east of our target. That was why the planners had chosen the west of the site. The west had less trees and less danger of an accident. Landing with a forest nearby was dangerous. The farms and clearings were small but, by making a lower jump, I thought we could land there and hike the mile or two west to Hechingen. The danger was the trees. If the winds were too high we were inviting disaster. I knew my old hands. They could cope but the three new ones? When we landed at the field, north of Strasbourg, I would have to interrogate them.
The flight was very bumpy. I knew how to fly and I sympathised with the pilot. I saw a couple of the new men looking a little green around the gills but they managed to hang on to their bacon sandwiches. After three hours the Flight Sergeant came through. “Flight Lieutenant Ryan says we are landing in ten minutes.” He grinned, “I would brace yourselves if I were you. This could be a bit bumpy. They have had a recent snowfall and they haven’t cleared it.”
That made me annoyed. I knew, from Hugo, that the station commander had been expressly told how vital our mission was. If anything happened to the Dakota it would jeopardise our ability to carry out the mission. I turned to the new men. “Keep your feet up when we land. If the undercarriage goes you could end up with a broken leg.”
The Flight Sergeant was right about the bumpy landing. We rose up and then came down heavily. Fortunately nothing cracked or sheared and our next bump was gentler and we began to roll and slide down the runway. When we had taxied and come to a halt the Flight Lieutenant came from the cockpit, “Sorry about that. We will check the bus before we get our head down.” He looked down the interior of the fuselage. “No one upchucked! Good. This is our billet!” He pointed out of the door that the Flight Sergeant had just opened, “That is your hangar. The one directly in front of you. I am afraid the roof looks like it needs a repair or two. I was told that it was sound. Sorry about this.”
I stood, “Not your fault, Flight Lieutenant. We will sort it out. Right lads, get the gear out as quick as you can. The crew need their shut eye.”
I put on my greatcoat. Slipping the all-important letter into my pocket, I stepped out. The Flight Lieutenant had done well. There were snowy squalls. The side winds would have made landing tricky not to say dangerous. Polly and I went into the hangar. Ten percent of the roof had gone. It meant that there was a pile of snow in one corner and a gale was blowing through the hole. It was not good enough. “Lieutenant, get the lads clearing the snow. Find somewhere dry for the men and the supplies. Then see if Gordy can find something to repair the roof with.”
“Sir.”
I strode out and headed for the control tower. I guessed that would be where I would find the station commander. As I crossed to the buildings and Nissen huts I saw that there were just transports on the field. They were mainly Dakotas. There were neither fighters nor bombers. There were sandbagged anti-aircraft positions and the gate and perimeter were guarded by R.A.F. Regiment personnel. That was good. My men and our equipment would be safe. The Corporal on duty saluted.
“Where will I find the station commander, Corporal?”
“He is in the officer’s mess sir. The third Nissen hut on the left.” He smiled, “It says ‘Officer’s Mess’ on it, sir.”
“And what is the name of the Station Commander, Corporal?”
“Squadron Leader Andrews, sir.”
“Thank you.”
As I entered the mess I was almost deafened by the noise coming from within. It sounded like a party and yet it was still the middle of the afternoon. I stood in the doorway and looked. Drinks were flowing and food was being served. I wondered who was actually working on the airfield. An older looking Flight Lieutenant came up to me, “Can I help you, sir?”
“I am looking for Squadron Leader Andrews.”
He pointed to a round looking officer with a bright red nose and a handlebar moustache. “There he is. I’ll take you to him.”
The squadron leader had just told a joke and the four young pilot officers around him went into paroxysms of laughter. I suspected the drink made it funnier.
“Sir, there is an officer to see you.”
He looked around at me, “Ah the Commando chap. Your quarters alright?”
He sniggered as he said it. It was confirmation that this was a deliberate act and not an oversight.
“Squadron Leader Andrews, my mission is of the utmost importance. I am afraid that they won’t do. I need you to have some of your men help to repair the roof. And not only that. We need the runway clearing. We have a mission tonight, in case you had forgotten.”
He burst out laughing, “There is more snow forecast. You will have to put your mission off for a day. The weather will be better tomorrow. We have better things to do than repair hangars just for a bunch of Commandos. I thought you chaps were supposed to be tough. Well tough it out!”
I was in great danger of losing my temper but I knew that nothing would be gained by doing so. “Squadron Leader, I must insist.”
“Insist all you like. It is not happening.”
I had not wanted to do this but I took the letter out and opened it, “Perhaps this will change your mind.” I did not give it to him, I just showed it to him and the two officers who were closest to him.
The older Flight Lieutenant said, “Good God, that is the Prime Minister’s signature.”
Squadron Leader Andrews became more serious, “Who the hell are you?”
“Major Tom Harsker, 1st Special Service Brigade.”
The older officer snapped to attention and said, “Aren’t you Group Captain Harsker’s son?”
“Yes I am but he is now Air Commodore.” I took the letter from the squadron leader and put it back in its envelope before putting it in my greatcoat. “So, Squadron Leader, I would appreciate you having your men begin repairing it now. I would hate to have to radio London and tell them that I was not getting the cooperation I expected.”
As I walked out I was aware that the cacophony of noise had now become the silence of a church. I had dealt with men like An
drews before now but it was a distraction that I could do without.
When I reached our temporary home I saw that my men had worked wonders. The snow had been cleared from inside and the supplies safely stored. I said, as I entered, “The R.A.F. are sending men to sort out the mess. Get the radio set up, Fletcher. Make contact with London and tell them we are here. Ask them if there are any changes we should know about.”
As he started to unpack the radio he said, “You are an optimist aren’t you sir?” He looked at his watch. In Whitehall they will be nipping out for a lunchtime pint!”
I smiled, “I think not Scouse.” He nodded and carried on with unpacking and setting up the radio. I knew that it would take time. “Lieutenant Poulson we had better get the chutes and snow gear out. Lieutenant Ryan will not want to hang around. As soon as they are awake I want us to be ready to go.”
“Sir.”
I went to my gear. Gordy had laid it out for me already. We would not be able to use our rubber soled shoes. We would have to wear boots. Mine were there. I took off my tunic with the medals. I would not need that. I took everything out of my Bergen and began to pack it. The first things I packed were the least essential items: socks, underwear and the like. I packed the battle jerkin with spare ammunition and grenades. Then I put the rest of the grenades and ammunition in the side pockets of the Bergen. I put in the food and water we would need as well as the camouflage netting, compass, wire clippers, toggle-rope and sap. We also had a light weight blanket. This would be the first time we had used it in such extreme conditions. If it did not work we would be in trouble. Then I checked my two pistols and MP 34.
That done I shouted Lance Sergeant Hewitt over, “Foster is the other medic. Just make sure he is up to speed eh?”
Lowering his voice Hewitt said, “Sir, do you mind me asking why you aren’t taking me?”
“Gordy will be the only N.C.O. here if I take you, John, and besides, you and Gordy did your bit in the Ardennes. I shall need you both in Austria.”
Mollified, he nodded, “Thanks sir. I understand now. I will make sure Foster has everything he needs and I will give him some tips too.”
