‘What sort of exercises, sir?’ asked Truscott. ‘I would have thought the men know how to handle the boats by now.’
‘The men? For everyday patrol work, probably yes. But not for this sort of operation. And, I doubt you and your fellow officers have ever been up against anything quite as tricky as Operation Madcap.’
‘Madcap?’ queried Truscott.
‘Yes. I thought we needed a name. Seemed right to me. Anyone knowing the details would call it a madcap operation.’
‘Doesn’t sound very encouraging,’ remarked Baines.
‘Let’s just call it irony, shall we?’ said Steadfast, closing this uncomfortable discussion.
‘You were saying this op’s different, sir. How?’ asked Fergusson.
‘For a start – and in fact it’s the most important difference – you’ll be right under the nose of the Ities,’ explained Steadfast. ‘You’ve got to take the boats to within a couple of hundred yards – even closer, perhaps – of a heavily guarded fort and then take partisans in and out in dinghies, all the while within earshot of the shore. There’ll be no moon, so it’ll be pitch black – we can’t wait for a full moon, the job’s too urgent. There’ll be rocks to avoid, you’ve got to find a small beach, and everything has to be done in complete silence. That’s all we’ve got on our side: darkness and silence.’
‘I think we could do all that already,’ said Truscott.
‘Do you? How are you on kedging?’ asked Steadfast.
‘Kedging? Isn’t that something you do when you’re aground?’ continued Truscott.
‘Dead right. But it’s also what you use when you can’t use your main engines. You can use a kedge anchor and the capstan to take your boat silently close into the shore,’ explained Steadfast. ‘I want those boats damned close in. Ideally without the Ities having any idea we’re there. But if they do come out spitting fire, I want us to give them everything we’ve got in return. Damned close, remember, gentlemen, damned close. Don’t forget what Nelson told his captains: “No captain can do very wrong if he places his ship alongside that of the enemy”. Well, the same applies to you.’
‘I’ve seen kedging done with a dinghy,’ remarked Fergusson.
‘Just so. Well, you’re going to practise it with a gunboat. By the time you’ve finished your training you’ve all got to be able to get in close to shore without giving yourselves away; to manoeuvre close to another boat in total silence; to put a dinghy into the water and take men in and out without enemy look-outs on the shore hearing a thing,’ answered Steadfast.
‘When do we start, sir?’ asked Baines.
‘Today – leaving from here at 8.00 a.m. I’ve picked out a nice, narrow rocky inlet ten miles down the coast. I guess it’s similar to where we are going.’
‘How similar?’ interrupted Truscott.
‘No idea. We’ve no photos, no recce information on the target. Nothing at all.’
‘Oh!’ said Baines.
‘Anyway, back to this morning. We’ll all go down together, then you’ll take turns with the exercises. I’ll be on shore to observe and we’ll debrief at the end of each exercise. Any questions?’
No one felt inclined to ask any more questions of a commander who seemed to have no idea of the nature of his target. Nor were they inclined to make any more protests about what they saw as Steadfast’s trivial exercises.
‘Fine. 8.00 a.m. sharp!’
***
Unwilling to return to his hotel for fear of picking up another follower, Steadfast leapt up the jetty ladder and disappeared into a side street where the previous day he had spotted a well-patronised café called the Arabian Nights. Trusting to the taste of others, he looked forward to savouring a traditional Egyptian breakfast. As he entered the café he debated between a table near the street (good for keeping an eye on local movements) and one at the back (good for concealing his own movements). He opted for the front, telling himself that the more he knew about Alex and the Egyptians, the better. He ordered a meal of puréed fava beans with tomatoes, eggs, watercress, and sheep-milk cheese, and a pile of warm, fresh aish baladi bread, all washed down with several glasses of hot black tea. The service was slow, but today he had time to spare. When his meal arrived, he ate slowly, deep in thought as to what the next few weeks would bring.
***
Back on the boats the able seamen were frying up fatty concoctions of eggs and tinned sausages on the tiny gas rings in the boats’ galleys. The resulting greasy mixture was accompanied by chunks hacked off stale loaves, and mugs of tannin-rich tea drowning in condensed milk. The commanders insisted on being served on the jetty, where they could stick together and machinate against their common foe.
‘Who does he think he is?’ exclaimed Truscott. ‘How dare he suggest we can’t manage our boats?’
‘And to think he came from a destroyer. That’s no comparison with small boat work,’ added an offended Fergusson.
‘He’s got me a bit worried, though,’ contributed Baines. ‘I thought I was OK with my boat, but when he got on this kedge business I began to think.’
‘Child’s play,’ said Truscott, ‘that’s what weekend sailors do in their twelve-foot dinghies.’
‘Is it easy?’ asked Baines.
‘Don’t know. Never tried it,’ admitted Truscott.
***
Steadfast returned a few minutes before eight o’clock. As he approached the boats he was greeted by a strong whiff of mess breakfast and felt doubly grateful for his Egyptian fare.
‘Time to move. We’re going to a small bay about ten miles east. I’ll go with Fergusson and lead the way,’ said Steadfast.
One by one the three gunboats went off half-ahead eastwards along the coast in the early morning sun. Away from the Alexandrian docks there was no sign of a war. Carts and vehicles plodded up and down the coast road, trailing clouds of dust. Men and women laboured in the fields. Meanwhile Steadfast stood on the bridge of 371F trying to imagine his three commanders making a daring raid on an enemy coastline. Struggle as he might, he did not succeed in convincing himself of their suitability for the task.
While Steadfast was ruminating on his commanders, the three of them were individually pondering their own situations. Fergusson was a little affronted at the suggestion of the need for exercises but was full of confidence in his capacity to do whatever Steadfast asked. Secretly he admired Steadfast’s courage and audacity in taking on the operation. Perhaps one day soon he too would be called upon to lead a similar raid. Truscott was simply affronted at Steadfast’s cheek in coming all the way to Egypt to order them around. Life was all right until he turned up. Now no one knew what was going on, and there was no Moresby to help out when things got difficult. As to Baines, he was just terrified.
A short while later the three gunboats were anchored in the practice bay and Steadfast was ready to set the first task.
‘I’m going ashore in the dinghy for the first exercise,’ he explained. ‘In the order Fergusson, Baines and Truscott, you are each to take your boat out one mile and then come in to within 200 yards of the shore and anchor. I’ll be hidden behind a rock, making a note of every sound I hear. When you’ve each anchored, give a blast on your siren. Truscott and Baines: don’t start your run in until you hear the siren of the boat ahead of you.’
With that, Steadfast dropped down into the dinghy from Fergusson’s boat and was rowed ashore by a seaman. The three gunboats moved out to sea.
The sea was quite lively, stirred up by a fresh wind. On reaching the beach Steadfast noted that his commanders would be aided by the cover of the crashing of the sea against the rocky shoreline. After directing the seaman to beach the boat and stay to guard it, Steadfast climbed up to a low ridge and hid behind a rock. He took a notebook from his pocket and, pencil in hand, awaited the first noises from the gunboats.
About an hour later Steadfast was once more in the dinghy and on his way back to the three gunboats anchored in the bay.
‘You’re d
ead,’ he told his commanders, ‘or would be if you made that much noise approaching our fort.’
‘Really? It seemed quiet enough to me, sir,’ said Truscott defensively.
‘Remember, I couldn’t see a thing – I was behind a rock with my back to the sea. But I could clearly pick out your voice, Truscott, and you, Baines. All the boats’ engines could be heard very distinctly and the rattle of the anchor chain was all too clear with you, Baines. So, commanders, what is the answer?’ asked Steadfast.
‘Kedge anchors, sir?’ suggested Baines tentatively.
‘Exactly. If you’re going to survive Operation Madcap and, more to the point, bring back Dobransky, you’ve got to be a damned sight quieter. That means coming in more slowly, cutting the engines sooner, and then kedging. So, gentlemen, let’s spend the afternoon in some kedge-work.’
‘Could you just run over the essentials, sir,’ suggested Fergusson, who couldn’t remember ever having used a kedge anchor.
‘It’s simple enough. Usually kedging is for manoeuvring in confined spaces, but in your case it’s to move your boats in with the engines shut off. So, let’s say you need to kedge 100 yards. You stop the boat. Attach a cable to a capstan. Attach a kedge anchor to the other end. Take the anchor in a dingy to 100 yards ahead of the boat and drop it. Then haul on the capstan. The anchor is stuck in the mud, so as you haul in the cable, the boat moves forward. And you can repeat that for as many times as you need to.’
For the next few hours Steadfast had each boat practising running out a kedge anchor, hauling it in and so moving their boats forward without the aid of their main engines. Fergusson and Truscott soon got a feel for the rhythm of the manoeuvre and Fergusson even repeated it, so moving his boat 200 yards without engines. Steadfast was just congratulating Fergusson when he heard a commotion further out to sea.
‘Yeoman, make a signal to Baines: “What is your problem?”’
A short while later the answer came back: ‘We have a fouled propeller.’
‘How the hell are we going to get Dobransky out with such incompetence?’ Steadfast rhetorically exploded. ‘He’s let his boat swing round and the cable’s caught in the propeller.’
There was now a long wait while Baines sent a man over the side to cut free the fouled cable. As this slow work went on, Baines felt the eyes of his commander and those of his fellow commanders trained on him. (He noted with bitterness that Steadfast had allowed all other work to halt, so drawing attention to the drama of his own boat.) When Baines had finally cleared his propeller, Steadfast ordered him to start his manoeuvre over again.
Once more Baines’s boat paid out a cable and down went the kedge anchor. This time he held his boat steady so that it did not turn around to catch on the cable forward. When a seaman in the dinghy signalled that the kedge anchor was in place, Baines ordered his men to haul on the capstan. ‘Hurry up, now,’ he called. His men duly hurried, spun the capstan too fast and pulled the kedge anchor clean out of the seabed.
‘God almighty, man! Can’t you do anything right!’ yelled Steadfast. He then despairingly indicated that the day’s activities were at an end and ordered Fergusson to take him back to the jetty at full speed ahead. Throughout the short journey Steadfast stood silent and grim-faced in the tiny bridge area. Beside him Fergusson fumed with resentment at having to suffer this overbearing commander on his bridge.
As Fergusson’s boat came alongside the jetty, all that Steadfast said was ‘Eight a.m. again tomorrow. Tell the others, would you?’ He then leapt up the ladder and stormed off, audibly swearing as he went.
When Steadfast was out of earshot, Fergusson turned to his sub lieutenant and said: ‘What’s up with him? All that over a kedge anchor!’
The sub lieutenant responded by asking, ‘Do I hear we are going all the way to the Balkans with that man?’
‘I’m not sure what you hear, sub lieutenant. The commander will tell us what all this is about when he’s ready.’
***
Steadfast’s destination was Moresby’s boat. When he arrived at the dock, he could see Moresby on the dockside, talking to a couple of officers whom he did not recognise. One was a sub lieutenant and the other a midshipman, so Steadfast assumed his own rank would be enough for him to gain immediate access to Moresby. Spurred on by his fury at the results of the day’s work, he barged his way past repairmen, men loading ships, drivers taking a smoke as their vehicles were loaded or unloaded, and then rushed up to Moresby and exploded. ‘Moresby, I’ve got a bone to pick with you!’
‘Can’t you see I’m busy with these officers, Steadfast. If it’s urgent, come back in half-an-hour – but I’d rather you came back in the morning,’ replied Moresby in a haughty manner.
‘It can’t wait,’ replied Steadfast demandingly.
‘I’m sorry about this, gentlemen,’ said Moresby to his two visitors. ‘Let’s go below.’ He guided them onto his boat and went below, leaving Steadfast fuming on the dockside.
Moresby’s business with his visitors was quickly settled, but, in an unspoken accord, they dragged out their leave-taking to fill exactly thirty minutes. Finally, Moresby reappeared on deck and, feeling he had exerted enough revenge for the day, courteously asked Steadfast his business. The courtesy was not returned.
‘My business? You know what it is and you know how important it is, so why did you send me that useless Baines. He’s a total liability. Knows nothing. Messes up every task. He’s utterly hopeless. You’ll have to take him back and give me somebody half-decent.’
‘Look, Steadfast, you’re rapidly making yourself mighty unpopular around here,’ responded Moresby. ‘And you won’t be any more popular if you continue shouting and ordering around those of us who work here. Whatever you may think, I don’t know a damn thing about your prancing around the Med. All I know is that London thinks they’re onto something big. Well, that means nothing out here. You forget that we get a stream of hair-brained Admiralty schemes and ops out here. I don’t think Cunningham lets London do his thinking for him, and nor do I. So, just calm down a bit and tell yourself that, whatever London says, we know better out here. We know what’s important, and what’s not. So stop banging on about the boats that you need for some tuppeny-ha’penny op.’
‘But it is important, it’s all to do with …’ Steadfast stopped himself in time from revealing the truth about Operation Madcap, and turned to another tack. ‘OK, Moresby, let’s agree to differ on how important we each think my op is. But that doesn’t change the facts. Fact 1: I’m answerable to London and they think it’s important. Fact 2: I daren’t take Baines. He’ll risk the whole op. I have to have someone else.’
‘Do you?’ queried Moresby, drawing himself up in order to add force to his put-down. ‘That’s a pity, because I have no one else to give you. Perhaps you had better take just Fergusson and Truscott. Shall I take Baines back?’
‘Just you dare!’ replied Steadfast as he stormed off the boat.
The labourers and sailors working and lounging on the busy dockside momentarily looked up as they watched the angry Steadfast tearing along, kicking at buckets and bales while audibly cursing Moresby. ‘I’ll get that bastard! I’ll get him! He’s no better than a saboteur.’ Boiling with rage, Steadfast was momentarily tempted to have it out with Cunningham. He wasn’t sure how much he knew about Madcap, but surely London had made clear how vital this mission’s success was. Yet as he angrily pounded the pavements in his tearing rush to reach Cunningham’s flagship, doubts crept in. Was Cunningham, he asked himself, the sort of commander to readily overrule his subordinates at the mere request of a temporarily attached lieutenant commander? And then he realised that he wasn’t even ‘attached’ in any meaningful sense. All his orders came from London. No one here could tell him what to do. He was all alone and it was he alone who could make Madcap work. And that meant making the best he could of Baines and the others.
6 - The Return Of The Spy
During the next three days Steadfast too
k his three commanders out for exercises in the silent manoeuvring of their boats near to land, landing men and taking men off. By the end of the week even Baines (or perhaps it was his sub lieutenant) could be relied on to make a surprise landing. The commanders continued to grumble in the background at the futility of the exercises. They longed to return to working under Moresby who, even when he doubted their capacities, never subjected them to such humiliating antics. The worst part was that the ratings were watching it all.
‘Still think I’m wasting your time, do you?’ Steadfast asked them on the last day of this round of exercises.
‘You have to admit, sir, that we’re doing a first class job now. Remember, you were taken totally by surprise by all our landings yesterday,’ Fergusson boldly remarked.
‘Quite true, lieutenant. And don’t think I’m not pleased. I am. But don’t mistake that for satisfaction. That will come when you’ve done it successfully on the Albanian coast. And, remember, that will be in darkness. So, our next exercises will be at night. Let’s see how you manage that.’
‘I think we’ll be OK, sir,’ said Baines, for once over-confident. ‘We’ve worked up a marvel this last week.’
‘I’m glad to hear of your confidence, but make no mistake, this is a damned tricky op.’
Steadfast then straightened his back and put his hands on his hips with elbows jutting well out. Cocking his head back even further than usual and adopting his curled-lip sneer, he surveyed his commanders, slowly moving his head from left to right, from right to left. Then he paused … and the commanders waited.
‘Yes, gentlemen, I think you can do it. We’ve got about five days to go – say three to four days to finish our work up – before the real thing. You know what you’ve got to do. Tonight we’re going to use the usual bay, plus another small inlet close by. Make sure you all have your boats at point Z at midnight. Point Z is one mile due north of our bay.’
‘Is that how we’ll operate for the real thing?’ asked Truscott.
‘Yes, there’ll be a point Z one mile out to sea – I shan’t give you the exact coordinates until you’re half a day or so away from the target. Then, if any of you get captured, there’s no chance of your giving us away.’
Action This Day (A Commander Steadfast Thriller) Page 5
