At that moment Schorner remembered the letter that General Georgeton had passed to him; the envelope from the old English officer, Hickson, with the caution that it was not to be opened until the eve of the invasion. He took it from the map case where he had put it among his personal effects. If anything was the eve, this was it. He opened it carefully. It contained a short letter and another, smaller envelope. The letter was dated 1 May 1944. It read:
Dear Colonel Schorner,
My wife and I were talking last evening about the course of the war and of your forthright campaign. We wished to make some gesture which we felt might encourage and assist you and we decided it would be appropriate to ask you to accept the enclosed medal ribbon. It is the ribbon of the Military Cross awarded posthumously to our son, William, who won it in Burma. We hope you will carry it with you as you go, and that it may remind you, from time to time, that you carry our hopes, our prayers and the honourable tradition of all men who have fought for freedom and right.
Yours sincerely,
Henry Hickson
Maj.-Gen. (Retd)
Schorner choked with emotion. His fingers clumsily opened the small envelope and he drew out the silver ribbon with the single blue stripe. He held it in the palm of his hand and closed the hand over it. The telephone jangled. He picked it up, listened, and replied: ‘Yes, sir. We’re all ready.’ It was time to go.
All along the grey southern coasts of Britain that day, from Falmouth in the far west to the Thames, troops began moving from their camps and heading for the transports and landing ships in the ports. The assault forces first, the British from Kent and Hampshire, the Canadians from Sussex, the Americans from Dorset, Devon and Cornwall. Tanks and trucks and guns were already loaded in the holds of the LSTs. Now the men filed aboard and took their stations. The sea remained heavy. Seasickness pills were handed out like small gifts as the soldiers went aboard the craft, together with packets marked: ‘Bags; Vomit’.
In Devon, trucks carrying Americans moved along dripping lanes towards the small ports in sheltered estuaries. Schorner’s unit began moving out in the early afternoon. By three o’clock the Telcoombe Magna camp was emptied. Colonel Schorner returned there in his jeep once the column was on the road, awaiting loading at Wilcoombe. Albie Primrose drove him back and Schorner left him in the vehicle while he went alone along the vacant lines of tents and huts. The dull June wind blew among the buildings and made the khaki tents shudder, like the wind that had riddled the deserted villages.
On the far side of the camp he halted, staring at a line of trash pits which had been filled over. The red earth lay on them like freshly dug graves. He turned quickly and walked back towards the jeep. Albie watched him affectionately. As the colonel walked he saw the wing of a tent half hidden among the lines, and walked along the row for a clearer view. Across the canvas was painted: ‘Good-bye Doris, Good-bye Phyllis, Good-bye Jane’.
‘Right, Albie, let’s get going,’ sighed Schorner, returning to the jeep. ‘Let’s get the show on the road, as they say.’ Albie grinned and turned the jeep for the last time out of the field and into the lane.
They had to take the northern route to Wilcoombe because of the pre-arranged traffic pattern. The roads were full of troop-carriers but they overtook the slow trucks and were soon approaching the town from the top of the hill. The slope was jammed with vehicles. Albie said: ‘Lieutenant Bryant is just here, sir.’ The English officer was standing in his stationary jeep peering over a farm gate and into a field. As they edged nearer he turned, saw it was Schorner and pointed wryly at what was happening in the field. It was the cricket match. Wilcoombe were batting, the opposing players, in whites, in their fielding positions, the bowler making his run to the wicket. Schorner saw that Barrington was one of the two batsmen. He played the ball towards a fielder who picked it up, then stood and Barrington stared towards Schorner who now stood also taking in the pastoral scene. The Reverend Sissons, who was an umpire, white-coated and wearing a straw hat, also turned and saw the American officer.
Barrington waved his bat in farewell and Sissons waved his hat. Schorner waved back. ‘God be with you!’ called Sissons. The cricket players stood staring.
Bryant walked back and said, ‘You wouldn’t have liked the game, sir.’
‘I don’t know,’ grinned Schorner. ‘It has a certain air of peace about it.’ He nodded towards the port. ‘Everything going okay with the embarkation?’
‘It seems so,’ said Bryant. He grimaced. ‘The old lady, Mrs Mahon-Feavor, is sitting on a chair on the shingle. All fur-coated. She’s waving to the craft going out.’
The colonel laughed and sat down again as the jeep began to drive forward through the military traffic. Bryant returned to his vehicle and it moved ahead also. From the top of the hill the harbour came into view; dark lines of soldiers moving aboard the waiting craft. Out in Start Bay was spread a fleet of grey ships. A formation of bombers sounded overhead. Schorner took a deep breath as he watched. This was it. For many miles, in many harbours, the scene would be the same. Men and weapons moving forward, hearts sounding, eyes hard; going on the final adventure of the war. The Magic Army was moving to battle.
Author’s Note
Although The Magic Army is a work of fiction, the main events therein – the evacuation of a large area of South Devon for use as a US Army battle-training region, and the sinking by E-boats of ships in the American troop convoy off Portland Bill – are widely based on fact. The characters in this novel are, however, fictional and are not based on real people, now living, or who were living at the time.
I would like to acknowledge the help given to me in researching these episodes by the staff of the National Archives and Records Service, Washington, DC; the Public Record Office, Kew, London; the Editor and Publisher of The Kingsbridge Gazette, Kingsbridge, Devon; and many individuals both in Britain and in the United States.
Grateful acknowledgement is also made to: Jonathan Cape Ltd for permission to quote from ‘Ghost House’, from The Poetry of Robert Frost edited by Edward Connery Latham; Faber and Faber Ltd for permission to quote from ‘O What is that Sound’, from Collected Poems by W. H. Auden; Southern Music Publishing Co. Ltd, 8 Denmark St, London WC2H 8LT for permission to quote from ‘Deep In The Heart of Texas’ by Don Swander and June Hershey; Chappell Music Ltd for permission to quote from ‘Blues In The Night’, music by Harold Arlen, words by Johnny Mercer, © 1941 Harms Inc. (Warner Bros), British Publishers Chappell Music Ltd.
I would also like to acknowledge the following books:
The Land That Changed Its Face by Grace Bradbeer
The Struggle for Europe by Chester Wilmot
The Longest Day by Cornelius Ryan
The GIs by Norman Longmate
How We Lived Then by Norman Longmate
The People’s War by Angus Calder
US Army Handbook 1939–45 by George Forty.
Leslie Thomas
Somerton, Somerset
June 1981
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9781446440636
www.randomhouse.co.uk
Published by Arrow Books in 2004
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Copyright © Leslie Thomas 1981
Leslie Thomas has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
First published in the United Kingdom in 1981 by Eyre Methuen
Published by Penguin Books in 1982
Arrow Books
The Random House Group Limited
20 Vauxhall Bridge Road, London, SW1V 2SA
Random House Australia (Pty) Limited
20 Alfred Street, Milsons Point, Sydney,
New South Wales 2061, Australia
Random House New Zealand Limited
18 Poland Road, Glenfield
Auckland 10, New Zealand
Random House (Pty) Limited
Endulini, 5a Jubilee Road, Parktown 2193, South Africa
The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009
www.randomhouse.co.uk
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 0 099 46917 0
The Magic Army Page 55
