by Gee, Colin
The full text of the poem ‘Wait for me’ by Konstantin Simonov.
to Valentina Serova
Wait for me and I’ll come back !
Wait with all you’ve got !
Wait, when dreary yellow rains
Tell you that you should not.
Wait when snow is falling fast,
Wait when summer’s hot,
Wait when yesterdays are past,
Others are forgot.
Wait, when from that far-off place,
Letters don’t arrive.
Wait, when those with whom you wait
Doubt if I’m alive.
Wait for me and I’ll come back !
Wait in patience yet
When they tell you off by heart
That you should forget.
Even when my dearest ones
Say that I am lost,
Even when my friends give up,
Sit and count the cost,
Drink a glass of bitter wine
To the fallen friend -
Wait ! And do not drink with them !
Wait until the end !
Wait for me and I’ll come back,
Dodging every fate !
“What a bit of luck!” they’ll say,
Those that would not wait.
They will never understand
How amidst the strife,
By your waiting for me, dear,
You had saved my life.
Only you and I will know
How you got me through.
Simply - you knew how to wait -
No one else but you.
[Courtesy of www.simonov.co.uk, with my thanks.]
Bibliography
Rosignoli, Guido
The Allied Forces in Italy 1943-45
ISBN 0-7153-92123
Kleinfeld & Tambs, Gerald R & Lewis A
Hitler’s Spanish Legion - The Blue Division in Russia
ISBN 0-9767380-8-2
Delaforce, Patrick
The Black Bull - From Normandy to the Baltic with the 11th Armoured Division
ISBN 0-75370-350-5
Taprell-Dorling, H
Ribbons and Medals
SBN 0-540-07120-X
Pettibone, Charles D
The Organisation and Order of Battle of Militaries in World War II
Volume V - Book B, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
ISBN 978-1-4269-0281-9
Pettibone, Charles D
The Organisation and Order of Battle of Militaries in World War II
Volume V - Book A, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
ISBN 978-1-4269-2551-0
Pettibone, Charles D
The Organisation and Order of Battle of Militaries in World War II
Volume VI - Italy and France, Including the Neutral Conutries of San Marino, Vatican City [Holy See], Andorra and Monaco
ISBN 978-1-4269-4633-2
Pettibone, Charles D
The Organisation and Order of Battle of Militaries in World War II
Volume II - The British Commonwealth
ISBN 978-1-4120-8567-5
Chamberlain & Doyle, Peter & Hilary L
Encyclopedia of German Tanks in World War Two
ISBN 0-85368-202-X
Chamberlain & Ellis, Peter & Chris
British and American Tanks of World War Two
ISBN 0-85368-033-7
Dollinger, Hans
The Decline and fall of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan
ISBN 0-517-013134
Zaloga & Grandsen, Steven J & James
Soviet Tanks and Combat Vehicles of World War Two
ISBN 0-85368-606-8
Hogg, Ian V
The Encyclopedia of Infantry Weapons of World War II
ISBN 0-85368-281-X
Hogg, Ian V
British & American Artillery of World War 2
ISBN 0-85368-242-9
Hogg, Ian V
German Artillery of World War Two
ISBN 0-88254-311-3
Bellis, Malcolm A
Divisions of the British Army 1939-45
ISBN 0-9512126-0-5
Bellis, Malcolm A
Brigades of the British Army 1939-45
ISBN 0-9512126-1-3
Rottman, Gordon L
FUBAR, Soldier Slang of World War II
ISBN 978-1-84908-137-5
Schneider, Wolfgang
Tigers in Combat 1
ISBN 978-0-81173-171-3
Stanton, Shelby L.
Order of Battle – U.S. Army World War II.
ISBN 0-89141-195-X
Forczyk, Robert
Georgy Zhukov
ISBN 978-1-84908-556-4
List of units mentioned within ‘Red Gambit’ that have been awarded the Presidential Unit Citation since 6th August 1945
100th [Nisei] Infantry Battalion
Germany
101st US Cavalry Group
Germany
11th US Armored Division
Germany
16th US Armored Brigade
Alsace
1st GAVCA, Forca Aerea Brasileira
Germany
1st Provisional Tank Group
China
26th US Infantry Division
Germany
2nd Ranger Battalion
Alsace
312th Fighter Wing USAAF
China
416th Night-Fighter Squadron USAAF
Germany
4th US Armored Division
Germany
501st Parachute Infantry Regiment
Germany
501st Parachute Infantry Regiment
Holland
506th Parachute Infantry Regiment
Germany
63rd US Infantry Division
Germany
712th US Tank Battalion
Germany
736th US Tank Battalion
Germany
808th US Tank-Destroyer Battalion
Germany
83rd US Infantry Division
Germany
90th US Infantry Division
Germany
94th Combat Bombardment Wing
Germany
9th US Infantry Division
Germany
Fig#116 – Impase paperback end cover.
‘Counterplay’ - the story continues.
Read the opening words of ‘Counterplay’ now.
God rest ye merry Gentlemen
Let nothing you dismay
Remember, Christ, our saviour
Was born on Christmas Day
To save us all from Satan’s power
When we were gone astray
O tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy.
Anon.
Chapter 126 - THE ANNIHILATION
1317 hrs, Wednesday, 25th December 1945, airborne above North-West Éire.
Smoke poured from the two outboard engines, leaving parallel lines in the sky as the crippled B24 Liberator tried to make the nearest friendly territory.
Despite the obviously fraught situation, everyone aboard the Coastal Command aircraft was calm, and there was even laughter amidst the serious activity of their real mission.
It fell to the navigator to bring failure or success, for his skill would bring the Liberator directly to the precise point where they would achieve the task set them… or they would fail.
There could be no repeats, so it was imperative that the B24 hit its mark right on the button.
He thumbed his mike.
“Navigator, Pilot. Come left two degrees, Skipper, course 89°.”
“Roger, Nav.”
After a short delay, the navigator, sweating despite the extremely cold temperatures, spoke again.
“On course, Skipper. Estimate seven minutes to game point.”
“Roger, Nav. Bombs?”
“I’m on it, Skipper.”
The bombar
dier shifted to one side of the modified nose and checked for the umpteenth time that the internal heating circuit was functioning.
“Bombs, Pilot. Ready.”
The pilot looked across to his co-pilot.
“Time for you to play.”
It was Christmas Day, and most of those still asleep bore all the hallmarks of heavy encounters with the local brews, Russian and Irishmen alike.
A few, an unlucky few, had literally drawn short straws and found themselves sober and alert, providing the security whilst others spent the day acquainting themselves with their blankets or, in the case of a few, the latrines.
Seamus Brown was one of the selected few, and it was he who first heard the sounds of an aircraft in trouble.
The staccato sound of misfiring engines and the drone of their fully working compatriots mingled and grew loud enough to be a warning in their own right.
The camp was occasionally overflown, so there were procedures for this moment, and Brown instigated them immediately.
A large bell was rung, only a few double blows from a hammer were needed to warn the base what was about to happen. It was a question of keeping out of sight for most, but balancing that with having a few bodies in sight so as not to make the place seem deserted which, quite reasonably, they had all agreed might make the camp suspicious, even though half of it could not be seen from the air.
Brown dropped his rifle into a wheelbarrow and started to move across the central open area, his eyes searching the sky for the noisemaker.
“Nav, Pilot. Twenty seconds.”
“Roger. Bombs, over to you.”
The Bomb Aimer looked through the unfamiliar sight and decided that he could proceed.
The finger hovered above the button, pressed down hard, and the shooting commenced.
Brown kept walking, his eyes taking in the smokey trails from two of its engines, his ears adding to the evidence of his eyes.
‘The fucking bastards are in trouble’.
“Crash, you fucking English shites! Go on! Merry fucking Christmas, you bastards!”
A couple of his men chuckled and shared the sentiment, although not quite as loud as Brown.
His raised voice brought a response from some of those aching from the night’s exertions and windows were opened, the oaths and curses directed his way not always in Irish brogue.
He heard the window open behind him and knew the stream of Russian was for his ears, but he kept his attention firmly on the dying aircraft, shouting louder to make sure his new allies were even more agitated.
“Die, you fucking bastards, die!”
The Liberator, for he was sure that was what it was, kept dropping lower in the sky, and eventually flew below his line of vision.
In his mind, he enjoyed the image of the mighty aircraft nose-diving into some Irish hillside and promised himself that he would find out what happened at some time.
Turning to the nearest open window, that of a small hut hidden under a camouflage of turf roof and adjacent shrubs, Brown tackled the verbal aggressor.
“I don’t know what the fuck you are saying my little Russian friend, but if you don’t fuck off, I’ll shoot you in the fucking balls.”
The words were said as if he was apologising for waking the Soviet marine; his smile was one of sincere regret.
The Matrose nodded and closed the window, happy that the stupid Irishman would not repeat his error.
The Liberator continued on for some miles before the navigator gave another change of course, this time turning northwards and out to sea.
Once clear of land, the smoke generators were turned off, the flight engineer corrected his engine settings, and the B24 resumed its journey to RAF Belfast. There it was met by two members of the SOE Photo interpretation section, specially flown in from the Tempsford base to look at the stills and movie footage shot by the special duty crew as they passed precisely over the IRA base at Glenlara.
2002 hrs, Thursday, 26th December 1945, Camp 5A, near Cookstown, County Tyrone, Northern Ireland.
Wijers helped the female officer carry her equipment from the car into the lecture room.
Section Officer Megan Jenkins, and one assistant, had been rushed from RAF Tempsford to RAF Belfast, where they joined up with the film produced by the B24 Liberator pass over Glenlara.
The stills were easier to produce quickly, so Megan Jenkins had already examined them and found a great deal of information that would be of use to those present.
She had not waited to view the film footage before she left for Camp 5A so, once everything was set-up and introductions were made, the movie footage from the fly by was shown for the first time.
The others in the room looked at surprisingly good clarity work and were surprised, allowing that surprise to mask their disappointed reaction as to what the film contained.
Not so Jenkins and her assistant, who made notes and, when the short film had ended, compared them.
The assistant, a male Sergeant, removed the film from the projector and took it away to make some copies of still frames that they had selected during the show. A small suitcase contained everything they would need, and Wijers showed the sergeant to a suitable dark place.
The main room had been set up to her requirements, so Jenkins moved across to the table, spread with white paper and set with rulers, protractors and pencils.
She started to draw her map.
The others in the room gathered round, careful not to get between her and the maps and photos.
A special scale ruler flitted from photo to paper, the maths of the photographing height to ground scale tumbling from her brain with the ease of a Cambridge maths professor.
The speed and accuracy with which she worked was seriously impressive and, before their eyes, a scale map of the whole IRA camp started to appear.
The Sergeant reappeared, holding some of the images selected from the movie. In the manner of specialists throughout the services, he enjoyed his moment in the limelight, taking the main map and annotating it with the number of one of the new pictures.
Two in particular were of great note and Jenkins moved between her hand drawn map and the new photographs, comparing and adjusting.
Wijers was the first to voice doubts.
“Officer Jenkins, these two positions here… and here… the new ones… they are not in these photographs.”
Megan smiled, knowing that not everyone could grasp the science of photo interpretation.
“Here, Sir, these are from the movie. When we watched,” she indicated the smug looking Sergeant, “Both of us saw a flash, small, but there for sure. The new pictures prove it. The flashes were caused by reflections… something moving in the light, such as a window, a mirror, a glass, anything like that.”
She moved back to the original photos and selected one that covered the new ‘position’ nearest the water’s edge.
“Here. If you look carefully, that flash would come from this point here. See?”
He didn’t.
“Look here, Sir. Here is a shadow band. The sun is to the south east, so this shadow is on the northern edge of the position. The bushes muddy the waters a little… and I will have to study them a lot closer, but my experience tells me that this position is roughly eleven foot tall from ground level.”
Wijers looked at her and the photograph without comprehension.
“To be honest, Sir, I’m a little annoyed that I didn’t see it first time. Still, got it now.”
The Dutchman still didn’t see it.
Neither did Sam Rossiter, Head of SOE.
Michael Rafferty, top man in Northern Ireland’s Special Branch couldn’t either.
Much to his surprise, the last officer in the room could see it perfectly.
Turning his attention back to the hand drawn plan, he found himself well satisfied.
“Offizier Jenkins, can you put everything down on this map here. Find every position and put it here?”
“Yes, of course, Majo
r. You tell me what you want, I will put it there.
De facto Sturmbannfuhrer and leader of the SOE’s Special Ukrainian force but, for the purposes of Megan Jenkins, Major Shandruk of the US Army, nodded to Rossiter.
“More than enough, Colonel.”
He turned his eyes back to the plan, his mind already assessing how the job would be done and how, at the end of the operation, Glenlara would be nothing but a wasteland.
-To be continued-
