The corporal bade his farewell and left the Stubbins to catch their breath, wash, shower and head for the airman’s mess for a decent hot meal. John quaffed a very large slug of Duty Free Scotch obtained from the NAAFI and they settled down to wait for the 8pm meeting.
It was at this gathering that they discovered the truth of the situation in the UK. It had stopped snowing on the fifth of January, whilst they were at the airport, and rescue operations were to commence on the eighth. British residents were being trawled to determine how best they could be used in the recovery process. Shortly after this meeting Eve and John volunteered their services. They weren’t the only medical types at Rheindahlen, as it had been selected as a staging point for Medics, Police, Firefighters and any Military personnel who had been out of the country on holiday when the snow began.
Consequently, they now sat waiting at Rheindahlen on Day 26, the ninth of January. They were slowly coming to terms with the position and, like everyone else, were terribly worried about their relatives in the UK. It was extremely difficult to just sit and do nothing, but they soon grasped that there was nothing more they could do. Their only choice was to volunteer to help in any way they could and hope for the best. Additionally, the long term fate of their two children was of growing concern.
The next morning John was informed that he was to be deployed to the QEII to act as a surgeon on the newly commissioned hospital ship. Eve and the children were to be transferred to a two bedroom flat in Nijmegen, where they would wait for further news concerning their long term future, and where the children would be considered for entry into a local school. Whilst in Nijmegen, Eve was occasionally asked to visit other refugee camps in Germany to administer dental treatment, but it would be several months before their destinies were finally decided. A small amount of money and food vouchers were supplied by the local ‘Rathaus’ or Town Hall to enable them to just about exist.
It was a truly dismal and disheartening existence.
Similar miserable fates were shared by many thousands of other displaced UK residents, who were unable to resume their previous lives.
It wasn’t going to be a short term solution either.
Day 26
Thursday 9th January
Southampton Hospital
Staff Nurse Doris Ekins, like many hospital employees across the kingdom, had made an exceptional contribution to the continued survival of her charges – the patients.
In her particular hospital, there were now one hundred and forty survivors – patients and staff – but they continued to lose people every day. They were all in a pretty bad state – cold, malnourished and depressed. They had moved up to the third floor and made a gargantuan effort to keep warm and wait out the storm. The roof on the fourth floor above them had collapsed about a week before, and now water was beginning to seep slowly through to their level.
Although the snow had stopped falling on the fifth, the group was becoming increasingly agitated and frustrated. They had seen many helicopters flitting by in the distance, but none approached the hospital. They had hung out makeshift banners advertising their presence – but no-one flew near – until today.
At about 9am, a small helicopter drew near and hovered within reading range of one of their banners. The co-pilot seemed to be taking notes, whilst the pilot acknowledged their wild cheering. A small package was thrown at the ward window, but the down-draught blew it onto the snow surface below. The co-pilot pointed animatedly at the package and then wheeled away after twice holding up ten fingers, then two and giving the thumbs up.
The people crowding the window all shouted after the helicopter in dismay.
‘Come back,’ they shouted in unison.
However, Doris, ever aware, had worked out the code. She looked down at the bundle lying on the surface and asked one of the younger, fitter men to go down to the second floor and grab the package through an adjacent window. When he returned, his face was full of smiles. The small plastic envelope contained about twenty of the flyers being distributed by the new government. They were handed round and everyone got a chance to read through the information, which cheered them enormously. After a few minutes, Doris brought them to order:
‘Everyone, please listen in. I think that rescue is at last coming. I believe that the signal from the pilot was saying that they would be back at twelve o’clock. Ten fingers followed by two and a thumbs-up. Does that make sense to anyone else?’
She waited for a response from someone, and after a few seconds, several others called out in agreement.
‘Yes, I think I'm right,’ decided Doris, ‘I think we now need to get ourselves ready, just in case. Agreed?’
Her audience cheered and nodded happily and spent the next two hours preparing themselves for the anticipated rescue. Doris ensured that they followed the instructions on the leaflet and by 1145am, they were all lined-up and ready for departure, their feet sloshing in three inches of snow melt.
This rescue was coming just in time.
However, noon came and went and, once more, dismay appeared on the patient’s faces, until at 1220pm a large RAF Chinook came into view on the horizon and flew directly towards the hospital. It wasn’t an easy extraction, due to access and down-draught, but after six hours and ten helicopter loads, the one hundred and forty surviving patients and staff of Southampton General were all rescued.
Doris was the last survivor to leave and glanced sadly towards the makeshift morgue at the far end of her ward. As a professional nurse she was appalled at the unnecessary loss of life, but took some small, yet modest comfort in the fact that she had had some small part to play in saving so many others.
Doris was one example of selfless and stoical service to her fellow man, which was to be repeated across the nation. Although there were to be many examples of appalling behaviour by some survivors, these were far outnumbered by the gallant, noble and compassionate acts by the vast majority.
These goodhearted, decent people would help rebuild the country.
Day 25
Wednesday 8th January
Walthamstow – East London
Ross roughly manhandled Chloe and Chris back down into the house and onto the landing. He barked again at Brady to get back inside. Brady stumbled down and joined them on the stairs. Ross was in quick-reaction mode, drilled into him after five years in the SAS:
‘Andy, get your arse down into that cellar and get the chopper back on the radio. You’ve got to convince the pilot to fly back here – now!’
Brady said nothing. He was in deep shock and Ross was beginning to become more than mildly irritated with his RAF colleague.
‘For God’s sake, Andy! Get a bloody grip, mun! We need that helicopter. If those two jokers up there have got friends, we could be in serious shite!’
Brady just stared at the floor, so Ross pushed him hard against the wall and slapped his face – with force borne of impatience and orders.
At last Brady reacted.
‘What the hell are you doing……..oh…..Christ….yes, of course, I'm on my way,’ he stuttered.
‘Get a fookin’ move on, Andy. We haven’t got much time, mun.’
Brady ran down the stairs, followed by a stupefied Chris and Chloe, after Ross had shoved them both towards the staircase. Ross returned to the roof, cautiously climbed out and completed a careful recce of the area all around the perimeter of the property. Apart from the two bodies, which he confirmed were dead, there was no-one to be seen. He waited five minutes and when he was reasonably happy, returned into the house after kicking snow over the luckless Joey and Mickey in an attempt to hide their presence. However, it would be difficult for anyone to ignore the wide area of blood spatter.
In the meantime, Brady was stumbling back to the radio in the cellar. He switched it back on and checked the frequency was still set on 266.9 MHz. It had been about four minutes since the chopper with the five Townsends had flown off, abandoning Brady, Ross, Chloe and Chris. He had to re-contact Rescue
377 and persuade them to return and finish the job. After about thirty seconds the radio was ready to go. He estimated that the chopper would be about ten miles away by now, well within range. Brady hit the transmit button:
‘Rescue 377, this is Alpha 01, do you read, over?’
The pilot came straight back:
‘Alpha 01, this is Rescue 377, read you five by five, over.’
Brady breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Rescue 377, are you able to return to complete the pick-up, the area is now clear, over?’
‘Alpha 01, negative. We have strict SOPs regarding weapon fire. There is no chance of us returning now, over.’
Brady was seriously alarmed by this refusal.
‘377, I say again, the area is now clear and the gunmen are down. It's perfectly safe for you to return, over.’
‘Alpha 01, I repeat: negative! We will not be returning and that location will immediately be designated as an Avoidance Zone – so you’ll have to move away from there by at least one mile if you want a pick-up. I cannot and will not prejudice my aircraft, passengers or crew. In any case we have the principal target Professor Townsend on board, so regretfully we are now en-route to our base. Apologies, good luck and good day. 377 over and out!’
Brady tried the radio several more times but Rescue 377 was not responding. It would never respond. Within thirty minutes, the five passengers and Bracken would be safely aboard a hospital ship standing offshore near Mersea Island
‘Damn,’ swore Brady, as Ross re-entered the cellar.
‘Well,’ he asked, ‘are they inbound?’
Brady turned and explained:
‘No, Ross, they are not! The bloody gunfire frightened them and we are now on our own. We've got plans to make. Did you really have to shoot those two men – are they still alive?’
Ross rolled his eyes to the ceiling and gave Brady short shrift.
‘Yes, Andy, I did have to shoot them. It was us or them. Would you rather it was Chloe lying up there?’
Brady hesitated and Ross continued:
‘No, I didn’t think so, and yes, they are dead. Probably better than being wounded, because we couldn't carry two injured prisoners – or abandon them.’
‘Jesus, Ross! Haven’t you got any compassion man?’ protested Brady.
‘Got a job to do, Andy! Best we get on with it.’ Ross snapped.
‘Well, that chopper is definitely not returning to this location,’ whined Brady – ‘thanks to your Andy McNab impression!’
Ross was unperturbed by Brady’s barb.
‘Bloody crabs; you're a bunch of fookin’ wimps. Anyhow, we’re stuck with it now, so best we get the hell out of here ASAP. We should look for a change of shelter – someone is bound to have been attracted by all the drama.’
‘Agreed,’ said a slightly more composed Brady, ‘but shouldn’t we take what we can from here? Skis, kit and food for example. These two can't walk in this.’
Chloe piped up in panic.
‘But we’ve never even skied before!’
Ross wasn’t in the mood for any more pontificating:
‘Well, lass, you’ll have to bloody well learn and quick, cos we ain't staying here. I’ll give you one hour and then I'm away…with or without you!’
At that he stormed out to find a private spot to compile his mental report.
Of course, in reality, there was no way that he would be leaving Chloe behind!
Day 26
Thursday 9th January
Sandringham House – Norfolk
The Prime Minister had just come off the radio to the UN General Secretary. Before that it had been the US President and before that the head of NATO. He had a similar conversation with all three, leaving them in no doubt about his priorities. NATO must continue to support the rescue mission with ships, aircraft and personnel; the UN must maintain its humanitarian effort in Europe and anywhere else stranded Britons were in need; and finally the United States must continue it sterling work in Germany, where they were co-ordinating and controlling the housing and subsistence for over one million British ex-residents.
All three agreed wholeheartedly, but Sir Ian was still acutely aware that other nations around the world who were, let's say, less supportive of British ideals, were bound to start pushing for a return to normality and would try to marginalise Great Britain and Eire at the earliest opportunity.
Consequently, Sir Ian had suggested to all three – and others – that he go on worldwide TV and radio, plus the internet and social media sites to paint a frank and realistic picture of the situation – and try to make the peoples of the planet appreciate what the world would be missing if ‘UK plc’ went down the metaphorical drain.
One pressing issue was to try and dig out the gold stashed in the vaults beneath the Bank of England – worth over £160 billion. Access to this would go a long way to reassuring the world that Britain could pay back some of the money being doled out to Brits worldwide on credit. However, access was a very tricky issue, and he would need to set up a task force to locate, retrieve, protect and transport it to a new and secure location!
Another priority was to sift through and capitalise assets owned by the British Government. This was a task way beyond his knowledge and experience, and he just hoped that his people in Brussels had discovered some experts amongst the refugees who had the know-how, or maybe there was a diplomat in an Embassy somewhere who could save the day. Sir Ian couldn’t even imagine how the displaced citizens would gain access to their bank accounts.
However, the most pressing issue was the impending rain, now due ahead of schedule on Saturday. Damn those bloody Met Men; couldn’t they ever get anything right? If they weren’t exaggerating bad weather and forecasting doom and gloom which never happened, they were missing the vital signs when snow like they'd just suffered actually came along. Nevertheless, it seemed that rain was about to arrive – within the next forty-eight hours and that would mean yet more hardship for those remaining on the ground in the UK. He was due to transfer to Brussels the next morning, and he wondered whether Sandringham was equipped and sturdy enough to stand the flood which would surely occur. He also wondered whether he should move the remains of the Royal Family away to safety. Although they were taking an interest in proceedings, they had little real contribution to make at the sharp end, and it might be better for them to be securely ensconced in a European palace. He’d speak to Ann Fletcher about it, and persuade her to employ her not insignificant persuasive powers to spirit them away. Her Majesty was strong willed, but certainly not stupid or foolhardy. She would take good advice when it was offered in a diplomatic way.
His list of ‘jobs to do’ seemed endless, and he scanned the papers on his desk to try and determine which was next for his attention. Then, without warning, the door to his office suddenly sprang open, making him start and look up in alarm, and Ann Fletcher was standing in the frame, somewhat breathless:
‘Ian,’ she blurted, ‘Ian, great news – they’ve found your son alive – and all of his family. They're safe!’
The Prime Minister was stunned:
‘How…where……w-when?’ he stuttered.
‘A helicopter flew by his farmhouse in Lincolnshire and spotted a man waving on the roof. They were picked up two hours ago and taken to a hospital ship. They are all safe - all five of them. It's marvellous news.’
‘Thank God!’ agreed Sir Ian, ‘thank God. It's the best bit of news I’ve heard since all of this started. Thank God!’ he repeated, a tear forming in his eye.
What Dame Ann didn’t reveal was that she had dispatched the helicopter to his son’s farm, and that his own home in Stevenage had also been located, excavated and his wife’s lifeless body discovered within, lying alone in bed.
She would save that snippet of information for another day.
Day 25
Wednesday 8th January
Walthamstow – East London
Brady, Ross, Chris and Chloe spent their hour prof
itably.
Ross attempted to teach Chris and Chloe how to ski. He fitted their skis – Matt and Lynne’s skis actually – and demonstrated how to use them up on the snow covering the Townsends’ back garden. Ross took some minutes to properly cover the bodies of the hapless Joey and Mickey before allowing Chris and Chloe up. After thirty minutes of toppling and falling over, the pair was beginning to get the hang of the skills required for basic cross country travel. They were both fairly fit, Chris playing high standard club hockey and Chloe running marathons. Ross spent most of his time scanning the area around No.50, and to his surprise, he observed little to concern him. Of course, it might have been the automatic rifle he was toting which precluded any aggressive approach.
In the meantime, Brady was re-packing four rucksacks with food and other essential items for their onward journey. He was confounded by the tragedy on the roof. Although it was good news that the five other family members had flown away to safety, the deaths of the two strangers was appalling. However, he grudgingly accepted that he had brought Ross along for exactly such an eventuality, but really hadn’t expected such a violent episode – and certainly not in front of his newly discovered daughter. Chloe didn’t seem that fazed by the incident and was working hard up on the roof to learn how to ski. Perhaps she was a tough little cookie – like her mother – or perhaps the will to survive was particularly strong in her!
Anyway, like it or not, Ross’s hour was almost up, so Brady transferred the four packs to the roof and then returned to the cellar to give the radio one more try. He warmed it up, selected 243.0 – the emergency frequency and made his transmission:
‘All stations, all stations, this is Rescue Alpha 01, transmitting blind on Guard. Does anyone read? Over.’
Snow! The Series [Books 1-4] Page 67
