Toehold in Europe (Combined Operations Book 5)

by Griff Hosker

  I nodded, "You are right, it is a beautiful sight. But I would trade it for an Oerlikon right now!"

  One of the lookouts shouted, "Fast patrol boat approaching from astern, Captain!"

  I turned and saw the dot in the distance. I could just make out the gun mounted in front of the bridge. "So close and yet so far."

  "You had better tell your lads to get ready to bail. We'll try to fool them until the last minute but..."

  "I know, we won't be able to pull the same trick twice, not with that big bird in the sky."

  As I turned to look at Ghawdex I saw, high in the sky, three black crosses. I shaded my eyes against the sun. They were fighters. The question was; was it ours or theirs?

  Sandy had seen them too, "I hope they are the Brylcreem boys!"

  The three crosses began to descend. When the Junkers turned I knew what they were, "They are Hurricanes!"

  The three fighters dived, in line astern. The Ju 88 had plenty of guns including two at the rear. The three Hurricane pilots knew their business and they came directly at the rudder of the Ju 88. The lower gun had no target and the upper rear could not fire for fear of hitting its own tail. The German dived towards the patrol boat in order to be protected by the ship's guns. The three Hurricanes were much faster than the Junkers and they peeled left and right as they zoomed alongside the Junkers. They divided the fire of the rear guns and I saw pieces of the rudder fly off and then smoke appeared. The three fighters banked and then closed in for the kill. The patrol boat used its limited machine guns to try to help the Junkers but when it plunged into the sea the Italian turned and headed back to Sicily, closely pursued by the Hurricanes.

  The crew cheered and I shouted, "Sergeant, you can bring the men up on deck. We are almost home."

  I went to the stern. Sandy and the Chief had their pipes going and were grinning. "That was lucky! Perhaps I ought to pray for the RAF more often."

  The Chief said, "That was in the days when we just had Faith, Hope and Charity! Things are different now, sir."

  Sandy nodded, "Take in a couple of reefs if you please. There is no rush now and I would like to finish this pipeful."

  "Aye aye sir."

  The sub-lieutenant nodded to me, "I can see that life with you will be interesting. The phrase mad as a fish springs to mind."

  I laughed, "I think it runs in the family."

  Sandy frowned and then said, "Harsker! Is your dad Squadron Leader Harsker, the British Ace from the Great War?"

  "He is Air Commodore now but yes he is."

  "Then I am not surprised that you do what you do. The papers were always full of his exploits. Won a V.C. and the Military Cross!"

  Sergeant Poulson had joined us, "The Lieutenant has the Military Cross too, sir."

  Sandy said, "Here you are Sergeant, keep her on a straight line." Much to Sergeant Poulson's consternation he let go of the wheel and came to shake me by the hand. "Chief Bosun, splice the main brace. This calls for a celebration."

  The Chief hurried below decks.

  "You have made my day, today, young man. After Jutland when the Navy was on its uppers and the lads on the Somme were being slaughtered it was the likes of your dad, duelling with the Red Baron and the others that kept our spirits up."

  The Chief returned with four very large glasses of rum. He gave one to me, one to Sandy and one to Sergeant Poulson. Polly looked nervously at the wheel and the Chief said, "Give it here son! I can steer, drink a toast and still keep my pipe going."

  Sandy said, "Here's to Bill Harsker and the Royal Flying Corps!"

  I felt quite touched as I raised my glass to my dad. Sandy Magee and the Chief had both lived through the Great War and seen it all. For them to acknowledge my dad as their hero meant the world to me. The fact that the rum burned when it went down did not upset me in the least but we all laughed when Sergeant Poulson coughed and spluttered.

  The Chief shook his head, "For Gawd's sake don't waste it! That is neaters! I didn't dilute it!"

  I laughed at Sergeant Poulson as he fought the fiery liquor. I think it confirmed the old sea dogs' view that soldiers just couldn't handle their drink!

  I turned to Sandy, "Thank you for that. Dad would have appreciated it."

  Chapter 5

  Hugo watched as the wounded were brought ashore. You could tell that he was a deskbound warrior. He paled at the sight of the scars and the blood. "Don't worry Lieutenant Ferguson, the lads will be right as rain in no time!" Sergeant Poulson had recovered from his close encounter with the rum.

  "Quite. Did it go successfully this time?"

  "Yes Hugo. All the way from Syracuse to Noto looks fine for an invasion."

  He panicked a little, "Who said anything about an invasion?"

  "Grant us a little intelligence, Hugo. We are not just killer dogs you let loose. We can think. Everyone of my men knew why we were sent to Sicily. A little more honesty would not go amiss." I handed him the packet with the maps.

  He nodded, "You are right." He tapped the maps. "I will let his lordship know! He will be delighted."

  "Any more news about replacements?"

  He looked guilty, "Lieutenant Jorgenson's new crew members are on their way by convoy!"

  "Which means you haven't asked him."

  "Not true, old chap, I have but he is a little distracted with the planning for this new operation. I am sure that once he has this information he will move heaven and earth!"

  "I somehow doubt it. We will have some mail ready to send soon. I hope that our own letters catch up with us."

  "I check each day but you know how things are."

  "Yes, Hugo, I am aware of the way of the world." I went to my quarters and took off my uniform. The salt from the sea water had dried, making it stiff. I would have to do some washing. I smiled, Dad had had a batman in the Great War. Uncle John would have done this for Dad. The world had changed in the last twenty five years.

  Bill Hay joined me as we washed our clothes the old fashioned way using the rocks on the beach. The weather had improved somewhat although it was still far from warm. Any news about mail from home sir?"

  "Sorry Corporal. Nothing yet. Are you waiting for something?"

  "Just a letter from home, you know..." he tailed off lamely.

  "One of the lads said you hadn't been married long, you know before you were sent to join us."

  "Less than six months sir. I know most of the lads think you are daft if you get married while there is a war on but me and our lass had been courting a year or two and we thought, why wait?"

  I nodded. My Auntie Alice was supposed to marry Charlie who had been one of Dad's pilots. They had delayed and he had been killed. Auntie Alice never married. "I think you are right to get married. God knows how long this war will last."

  He looked relieved that I had said the right thing, "I am just glad that she isn't in one of the big cities. I know the bombers go everywhere but I just hope that Shrewsbury doesn't suffer like the rest. It is bad enough that her family live miles away."

  "What about yours, Bill?"

  "They got hit in the Blitz. There were up in town celebrating their wedding anniversary. There wasn't even enough to bury them. It's why we moved to the country. It is a bit lonely for her but it is safe and..."

  He clammed up. "And you want your family to be safe."

  "I don't know if she is, you know, sir in the family way but we were trying and... well I just want a letter to know she is alright. I give my letter every week to Lieutenant Ferguson. I write one a week. Some are longer than others."

  "I know." Hugo acted as adjutant and read all the letters before sending them on. My men were good about that. They didn't put in anything about our operation or even where we were. Hugo was quite touched by some of the things they said. "I'll tell you what, I will put a fizz bang up their arse, how about that!"

  He brightened, "Yes sir. That would be great."

  I laid my clothes on a rock to dry. In summer they would be dry within m
inutes and even at this time of year knew they would not take long. I went back to my hut and began to clean my weapons. I doubted that we would be away again anytime soon. It would take Major Fleming some time to come up with another operation. Being such a small unit we all mucked in with the food and I sought out Sergeant Poulson. "What is on the menu for tonight, Sergeant?"

  "Lieutenant Magee sent over some of the fish they caught the other day. We are doing a fish stew. We still have some tatties left. We could do with a few things though, sir. We are running low on tea and sugar for a start."

  "And that would never do." The British soldier was stoical about almost everything save his tea. If he had no tea he could become mutinous. "I will have a word with the Lieutenant when he returns."

  Hugo was sympathetic to our request. "I think the 'Dragonfly' needs a few things too. I'll send her tomorrow to Valetta."

  "I think I will go with Sandy. I'd like to see Alan, and find out how things are going and I intend to have a rant about the lack of mail. Poor Bill Hay doesn't know if his wife is pregnant yet."

  "I know, I feel sorry for them. You and I are fine, Tom, we have no entanglements but most of your lads either have wives or girlfriends."

  That decided me. I was normally mild mannered but if some official was sitting on my men's letters I would show him the hard side of a Commando. I put on my one decent uniform. It would not do to turn up in a crumpled battle dress.

  I enjoyed the cruise down to Valetta for we sailed under the White Ensign and I was able to stay on deck. Sandy needed tea, fuel and rum. Our celebration had meant he needed his requisition filling. Valetta harbour was filled with ships of every description but Sandy carefully and skillfully navigated every obstacle. When we came to the dock I saw our old ship. The 'Lady Luck' did not look right sitting on a wooden framework while dockyard workers and her crew repaired her. We came in under engines.

  Sandy nodded as the ship was tied up. "I'll need about four hours to refuel and get the supplies we need."

  "Good. That will give me the chance to find whoever is sitting on our post!"

  I stepped on to the jetty, grateful that I was not having to wade! Alan looked up from the stern. "How is it going, Tom?"

  I was aware of the Maltese dockyard workers and so I shrugged, "The 'Dragonfly' is different. When you return I will give you the lowdown. How about you? Have your new crew arrived?"

  He shook his head, "The end of the week... or so they said. We have another six days, at least, of work here. Those cannon shells made a right mess of her. We are waiting for parts!"

  "I am off to chase up the mail!"

  "Good! I dare say my chaps are as annoyed as yours!"

  There was a whole section devoted to mail in Valetta. It was sent on from Gibraltar and then sorted. The sentries at the military post office were smartly turned out. I wondered at the waste. I guessed there would have to be eight men guarding the building. I doubted that they needed that much security but what did I know? I was a fighting soldier. The sergeant who was reading the newspaper behind the desk had a neat little moustache and slicked back hair. I judged that he liked order. He stood to attention when I entered.

  "Yes sir? What can I do for you?"

  "We are the first special section, Number Four Commando based at Marsalaforn on Ghawdex. We have had no mail since we arrived. I wondered where it was."

  The sergeant seemed to take in my Commando flash and my Combined Operations badge. He stood a little straighter and his eyes went to my medal ribbons. His eyes widened when he recognised the Military Cross.

  "Right sir. There must be some kind of mistake. I will see Lieutenant Harper straight away!"

  He was away for quite a while and then the sergeant said, "If you would like to follow me sir. Lieutenant Harper wishes a word."

  Lieutenant Harper was another fan of order and neatness. His office was arranged perfectly and everything was in its place. Everything, that is, save for the huge sack of letters squatting untidily in the corner.

  "Thank you Sergeant." The lieutenant flashed me an irritated look, "Please take a seat, Lieutenant...?"

  "Harsker, Tom Harsker."

  "Now Sergeant Harris tells me that you are here about some missing letter." He smiled and it was like staring into the eyes of a dead fish. "We do not lose letters. Before we begin have you any papers of identification?"

  I had anticipated this and I took out my own papers and the warrants I had been issued before we left England. He scrutinised them closely as though I was some sort of German spy. He reluctantly handed them back, "They appear to be in order but we can't be too careful about this sort of thing."

  I wondered what he meant, 'this sort of thing' but I let it pass. "So if you do not lose letters then I assume you know where they are."

  His eyes involuntarily flicked to the sack. "Of course and we tried to deliver them. I sent a mail boat to Marsalaforn but neither you nor the Royal Naval chaps was there and my orders were quite specific. They were not to be handed over to anyone other than a ranking officer."

  I sighed. I knew his type. We called them Jobsworths. In civilian life they were the ones who always shook their heads and said, 'More than my job is worth!' They could not think for themselves. "Lieutenant Harper, do you know what we do?"

  This time he took in my flashes and medals. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Well you are Commandos so I am guessing that you see a little action."

  I laughed, "You could say that. Sometimes we are away for days at a time. We have an officer at our base, Lieutenant Ferguson, but when we are away he is glued to a radio. Unlike you we do not have the luxury of eight sentries to guard us. When we are gone there is no one to wait in for the postman!"

  He coloured, "That is unfair! We do valuable work!"

  I was becoming angry. My mother said that dad and I were the same we both got what she called 'mad eyes'. I knew that my eyes were becoming angry. "Listen to me, Lieutenant Harper, on our last mission one of those Royal Naval chaps, as you put it, died. He was waiting for a letter about his first grandchild. One of my corporals is also desperate to know if he is to be a father. Now if my men's minds are not on the job then they can make a mistake and that mistake will cost lives." I leaned forward, "I was at Dieppe and I know about costly mistakes so give me that sack of letters before I take them!"

  "Are you threatening me?"

  He was leaning as far back as he could get in his chair and was in danger of falling from it. I put my hands on his desk and leaned forward. My eyes still burned but I had a grin on my face. He was terrified, "Of course not. It is not a threat. I am leaving with those letters either with your permission or without it. Clear?"

  I saw his eyes flickering from side to side as he sought a way out which gave him some dignity. There was none, "Then take the damned things. They are cluttering up the office anyway."

  I walked over and hefted the sack on to my shoulder, "Good and now that I have explained the situation then I hope future letters will be delivered promptly whether we are there or not. I would hate to have to come back."

  He nodded, "Of course. We are here to help."

  I turned as I reached the door, "I did wonder."

  Sergeant Harris snapped to attention, "Got what you wanted, sir?"

  "Yes Sergeant and I shall be borrowing one of your sentries for half an hour or so. I have no intention of carrying this sack back to the harbour."

  The ghost of a smile played upon the sergeant's mouth, "Of course not, sir."

  When I left the building the two sentries stood to attention. I nodded to the bigger of the two, "You, Private, leave your rifle and grab this. You are coming with me." He had little choice in the matter for I thrust the sack at him.

  "But sir..."

  Sergeant Harris came to the door, "Just do it Smith. The exercise will do you good."

  I gradually calmed down on the twenty minute walk back to the harbour. It was not the fault of Smith and Harris. Lieutenant Harper had made
them the way that they were. He wanted order and normality. I suppose we needed men like that. God knows it would be a disaster to have the likes of Harper with a gun defending anything save a sack of letters.

  "Just drop them there, Smith, by that schooner."

  "You sail in that sir? Are all Commandos as..."

  "Watch it Private or I may take you with us on one of our little jaunts!" I was smiling when I said it.

  He deposited the sack and said, "No thanks, sir. I'll stay in my cosy little billet. I'd like to see the end of this war."

  "As would we all, son, as would we all."

  Alan and Bill Leslie wandered over to me. "Petty Officer Leslie if you want to take out the letters and mail for your lads eh?"

  He grinned, "Will do sir. I take it we will be getting regular mail from now on?"

  "I thinks so, Bill!"

  "Oy, Tosh, come and give me a hand eh?"

  Alan lit a cheroot. "It is bad enough being over here and risking life and limb every day. A letter from home is all it takes to make these chaps feel happy."

  I nodded, "Except for sad so and so's like us."

  He laughed, "Well of course!"

  That was not quite true, there would be letters from mum, my sister Mary, and, perhaps, even Auntie Alice but if they did not write I would not be as upset as the likes of Billy Hay and George Lowe who both had wives and families at home.

  I nodded towards 'Lady Luck' ,"Is the work still progressing?"

  "I said six days before. Make that eight. We need another part and E-Boats do not use standard parts. We will be ready eventually. Perhaps Fleming will let you rest on your laurels for a bit eh?"

  I laughed, "There is no chance of that!"

  It took longer for Sandy to get everything he needed and we left just before sunset. It felt almost like peacetime as we headed into the sun with the sails billowing above us. The Chief and Sandy leaned against the stern rail and let me steer. Their pipes puffed pleasantly as a gentle breeze made me think that the war was just a nightmare. The short voyage was an interlude which recharged my batteries.