Go in and Sink!

by Douglas Reeman

  She smiled again. `That is all right.’ But she did not answer his question. `I see you have decorations? More than I expected.’

  Marshall grinned. Simeon must have told her about him. `There’s a war on.’

  `So I believe.’ She sounded distant. `A war.’

  He said quietly, `That was a damn stupid thing to say.

  I was forgetting. Are your family still in France?’

  She nodded slowly, the hair falling lightly over her forehead. `My father and mother are in Nantes.’

  Marshall remembered her name. Travis. `You’re married?’

  Again the slow nod. `An Englishman.’ She looked at the glass in his hand. `If I may have a choice, I would rather have a drink than any more questions.’ She smiled at his confusion. `Pardon me. That was unforgivable.’

  Marshall held up some sherry and she nodded.

  As he poured her drink she said softly, `Commander Simeon’s wife told me something about you. What you did in the Mediterranean!’

  He handed her the glass, watching the light playing on her hair as she leaned forward. It was black.

  `Have you known her long?’ He groaned. `God, I’m doing it again!’

  But she laughed. `It is all right. But no, I only met her-‘ She hesitated, `Recently.’

  Marshall sat down opposite her. It was like some invisible force between them. Holding him back. If only he had more time he would like to stay with her. Just to hear her voice. Watch the stillness in her.

  `Getting acquainted?’ Simeon strode past them from the door and examined the drinks cabinet with controlled indecision. `Splendid. Dinner in fifteen minutes.’

  Voices murmured outside and two more figures threw shadows across the heavy curtains. Both were army officers, one Marshall recognised as the so-called Medical Corps major. They shook hands all round and the conversation became general, but, Marshall thought, kept carefully away from the war, Probably for her sake. It couldn’t be easy to have your country occupied and under Nazi rule.

  He asked, `Is Captain Browning coming?’

  Simeon eyed him over his raised glass. `Negative. Flown south to see their lordships in Whitehall.’

  The other army officer said, `Not that you would have asked him anyway, eh, Roger?’

  They laughed.

  Marshall tensed as a voice said, `Hello, Steven. After all this time.’

  She was wearing a flowered dress which left her arms bare. She was exactly as he remembered her.

  He said, `You look marvellous.’

  Her hand felt ice-cold despite the blazing fire, and he thought it was trembling very slightly.

  Simeon called, `New dress, Gail? Bit bare, old girl, what?’

  She kept her eyes on Marshall. `It’s to make the spring come up here. I saw flowers in the village and I thought….’

  Simeon remarked, `Good God, you’d think clothing coupons grew on trees!’

  The major murmured approvingly. `You make a sight to remember. Don’t listen to him.’

  Slowly the conversation came back again, but Marshall could still feel the tension. Gail was sitting beside the other girl. They could have been sisters, but against the flowered dress, the expensive bracelet on Gail’s wrist, the French girl looked even more isolated.

  Marshall shook himself. It must be the malt whisky. He could not remember how many times Simeon had filled his glass. Or maybe he had been so long away from civilised surroundings he was far out of his depth.

  The dinner, served with dignified precision by a naval steward, was excellent, and Marshall found himself wondering where Simeon had managed to obtain not only such plentiful food but also the ample stock of wine.

  As the steward poured the brandy Simeon said, `You’ll be off soon then, Jack?’

  The major shot him a quick glance. `So they tell me. Bangers and mash from now on.’

  Marshall waited, but there were no questions. No explanations. It was like sharing a table with a bunch of conspirators.

  `How was Malta?’

  He turned to look at Gail who was at the end of the table. She was twisting her wedding ring round her finger, her eyes very bright.

  He replied, `Heavy air raids, but you know that of course, the Maltese are making the best of it.’

  The major called Jack said, `No choice. Poor devils.’

  The steward bent down beside Simeon and murmured in his ear.

  `Despatch rider outside.’ Simeon stood up dabbing his mouth. `Better go and see what he’s brought.’ He looked round the table. `Make yourselves comfortable. Robbins here will bring you anything you want to drink.’ He winked. `Anything but schnapps of course!’

  The two soldiers were escorting the French girl to the adjoining room. Marshall looked at Gail. They were alone.

  She said quickly, `I had to see you. To tell you about Bill.’

  `I know about Bill.’ He could not hide his bitterness. `Saw him before he was killed.’

  The other voices had faded and the dining room seemed very quiet. He could hear her quick breathing, see the way her breasts moved under the dress.

  She said, `You don’t understand. How can you? You don’t even want to understand!’

  `Perhaps I don’t. All I know is you married Bill. While he was in the Med. you decided to leave him. To marry Simeon. What else is there?’

  She stood up and walked to the fireplace, adjusting a picture, the motion automatic.

  He added, `Bill was a good man. The best I know.’

  She turned and regarded him sadly. `It’s not just a man’s world, Steven. You are like Bill in many ways. But then you always were. Remember the house near Southampton?’ She walked slowly along the room, touching the chairs without seeing them. `I remember when Bill came on leave once. We had had three nights of raids. Non-stop. Portsmouth got it, and Southampton had hundreds killed and injured. It was horrible.’ She faced him again, her eyes angry. `But Bill didn’t even ask about us. With him it was always the next patrol, the next target, his men, his submarine.’ The anger spent itself and she added softly, `You know what he was like.’

  `Why did you marry him?’

  ‘You know that, too.’ She met his eyes steadily. `I wanted you, but you were so sure you were going to be killed, remember? Like all the boys we knew, so damned sure.’

  Marshall stared at her. ‘D’you know what you’re saying?’

  She nodded. `I’ve had plenty of time to think about those days we had together. I’ve never regretted one of them.’ She swallowed. `Not one. But the war isn’t just for you and men like Bill, don’t you see that? It’s ours too, every rotten, bloody day of it? Life doesn’t stop. I wanted to get married, is that so unusual, I wanted a home!’

  He said, `I’m sorry. I was very fond of Bill.’

  `Be honest, for God’s sake!’ She moved towards him, her mouth moist in the lamplight. `To yourself at least. When I married him you felt guilt too, didn’t you? Because of the way you looked at me when you remembered how it was before.’

  He turned away. `It’s hard to say.’

  She was almost touching him, her eyes searching his face as if trying to discover something.

  `Oh, Steven, look what it’s done to you, too! I was watching you all evening. You’ve changed so much.’

  `It makes you get hard.’ He thought of his reflection in the mirror when Tristram had returned to Portsmouth. `Not merely that, Steven. You’ve pushed yourself to the limit. I meet plenty of service people these days.

  Roger is always entertaining them. Discussing his ideas. They’re not like you, can’t you see that?’ She reached out and took his hands, her grip insistent. `It’s turned you into a machine!’

  He looked down at her, his defences crumbling, the anger gone.

  `Try to see it my way, Gail. I have to be the way I am. I’d go out of my mind otherwise.’

  His arms were around her shoulders and he could feel her face against his chest. He could not stop. The words seemed to burst out like a flood. />
  `You don’t know what it’s like. On and on. No end to it. Always telling others to keep going, to remember the ship, the fight, the target, anything to hold the whole show together! I couldn’t have let you share that sort of life, that kind of separation.’

  He could hardly hear her as she said, ‘I would have. Willingly.’

  He held her away, his hands on her bare shoulders. `What about Simeon?’

  She did not lower her eyes. `It’s different with him. He gives me assurance. In his own strange way he needs me.’ She shook her head. `But we had something else again. Now tell me I’m a liar.’

  The door creaked and Marshall saw her eyes fill with sudden alarm. He turned quickly, an unreasonable anger rising inside him. But it was the other girl, Chantal Travis. She stood very still, looking at them in silence.

  Then she said simply, `I am sorry. The wrong room, I think:

  The door closed behind her and he said, `I thought it was….

  But Gail was staring at him with something like dismay.

  `What is it?’

  She stepped away from him very slowly. `Steven, your face, just then when the door opened. I thought it was Roger. I was afraid and a bit ashamed.’ She shuddered. `But you. You looked as if you wanted to kill somebody!’

  He shrugged helplessly. `Maybe I did.’

  He stared around the deserted table. Lost. A man apart. Exactly as she had described him. It was unnerving. Frightening. If you let it be so.

  Marshall heard her say, `One day, Steven. If we could meet somewhere. No recriminations. No comparisons. I must hold on to that memory. I have to.’ She was pleading.

  He thought of Frenzel with his photographs. Stoker Willard and his mother. Gerrard, who at this very minute was probably suffering the same torment as Bill had done. The need to go. The longing to stay.

  Perhaps she was right. Maybe his anger at her marrying Simeon had been because of himself and not caused by Bill’s loss. Whatever the true reason, it was too late now. For any of them.

  `It’s no use.’ He watched her face. Her eyes. `It’s over.! ‘Only if you want it to be, Steven.’

  He heard voices in the hallway. Simeon’s visitor had

  gone. It was just as well.

  `It’s not what I want. Nor you either, for that matter.’ The door swung open again.

  Simeon looked at them blandly. `Old confidences, eh? That’s the ticket.’ He strode over and put his arm round her shoulder, showing his teeth. ‘Ah well, the party’s over, children.’

  Marshall nodded. In more ways than one, he thought.

  7

  Second time round

  The day after Simeon’s dinner-party Marshall received a sudden change of orders. The time had been brought forward twenty-four hours. He would slip from the depot ship at 2000 that evening.

  As the sides of the loch dipped into shadow Marshall sat in his cabin making a last-minute check, his mind momentarily too full to consider what might lie ahead.

  Gerrard waited in the cabin doorway, arms folded as he watched Marshall putting his signature to his readiness report. In the passageway and along the casing above the constant comings and goings of feet were a reminder, as always, of the need to be sure.

  Marshall looked up. Gerrard had fortunately arrived back that forenoon. The change of plans might have left him stranded.

  He said, `Can’t think of anything else. Stores and fuel, ammunition and fresh water. Have you inspected the other new gear?’

  Gerrard nodded. He looked tired. `Yes, sir. It was a struggle, but we’ve got the extra stuff stowed just about everywhere. There’ll not be room. to breathe until we live off some of the rations.’ He gave a sad smile. `Back to the Med. Would you believe it.’

  Buck peered in at them. `Commander Simeon is coming aboard, sir.’

  His voice was still thick from his fishing trip. But the shadows under his eyes, his expression of spent satisfaction had not been caused by a rod and line, Marshall thought.

  `very well.’ He winked at Gerrard. `You can carry on. We’il be slipping in about thirty minutes. Better get ready with the slide-rule.’

  the stale joke brought a brief grin.

  Gerrard said softly, `With the load we’re carrying I hope you don’t want to do any crash dives!’

  He moved away as Simeon appeared in the doorway.

  He said crisply, `Buttoned up. Ready for business.’ He ticked off the points on his fingers. `All checks confirmed. Last mail ashore and censored. Twice. I don’t think we’ve forgotten anything.’

  `Why was the sailing time brought forward, sir?’

  ‘Oh, this and that. There’s a westbound convoy gathering at Greenock, and the minesweeping boys are doing their stuff down channel tomorrow. Don’t want you to get bogged under with that lot.’ He glanced round the cabin. `Or with this boat’s previous masters if they’re hanging around after that convoy.

  `Captain Browning’s not back yet?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Simeon stared at him, his face set in a frown.

  Edgy. Marshall watched him calmly. It was as he had suspected. Simeon had brought the time forward so that Browning would not be here to see them go. It was going to be his show.

  `I just wondered, sir.’

  Simeon regarded him suspiciously. Then he said, `You will be picking up three agents from one of our launches. I’ve already had their gear sent aboard, but their presence must be kept secret to the last minute.’

  `I see. Are you worried?’

  The second voice said defensively, `What the hell! You don’t look at the bleedin’ mantelpiece when you poke the fire, do yer!’

  Simeon smiled. `Don’t change, do they?’

  `I’m relying on it.’

  Marshall stood up, patting his pockets to make sure he had all he needed for the next few hours.

  They walked into the passageway and on to the control room. Again Marshall noticed the contrast between the immaculate Simeon and his own men. Heavy jerseys and leather sea-boots. Patched trousers and a variety of woollen hats. It might help to remind Simeon of his own responsibility when they were endeavouring to translate his schemes into hard facts.

  Frenzel was leaning over his panel in close conversation with Keville, the chief electrical artificer. He glanced up as they passed, but Marshall doubted if they even registered.

  Just careful. You check and check again. Intelligence work is like taking a submarine into a deep dive for the first time. Risk nothing, or you’ll not live long to regret it.’ He sighed. `More room in this boat than my last one.’

  Marshall eyed him thoughtfully. It was odd he had not noticed it before. Aboard the submarine Simeon was the one who was out of place. He was feeling it, too.

  Wires scraped on steel and he heard P.O. Cain bawling at his casing party. Soon now. More bodies squeezed down the passageway and he heard snatches of conversation as they discussed their recent runs ashore. Relaxed, unimpressed as yet by the task they were being given.

  One voice said incredulously, `You went with that bloody woman again? Gawd, Fred, she’s the ugliest party I ever laid eyes on. You must have flipped yer brains Iif it were possible, Frenzel had given more of his energy and time to his engines since Browning had told him the news.

  He led the way up the ladder to the bridge, wondering how Simeon would make his departure. Wish them luck. Add some comment about the risks involved. Mention Gail.

  They stood side by side watching the men on the casing slacking off wires and chatting to their opposite numbers on the little submarine alongside. Buck was there, pacing back and forth with Warwick. On the bridge the yeoman was testing the voicepipes, the hand-lamp and safety harnesses. He was whistling quietly. Absorbed.

  A voice rattled up one of the pipes and Blythe came instantly alert.

  `Captain, sir. W/T office reports, ten minutes to go. Lima is on station to lead us out.’

  ‘Acknowledge.’ He looked at Simeon. `Are you staying a while, sir?’
>
  Even in the gloom it was possible to see Simeon’s rare indecision. Then he said curtly, ‘No. Better get over to Guernsey’s W/T department. In case anything goes wrong at the last minute and I have to make new decisions.’

  Marshall relaxed slightly. That was more like the man.

  Simeon held out his hand. ‘Good luck then.’ He swung himself over the side of the bridge and dropped quickly to the deck below.

  Marshall smiled and buttoned the collar of his oilskin coat. He moved to the voicepipe, hearing the brow being hauled away as Simeon strode across the other boat.

  ‘Control room. This is the captain. Prepare to get under way. Main motors ready.’

  The bridge quivered as the motors purred into life. There was no point in bothering with the diesels if they had to manoeuvre against some small boat in total darkness.

  He peered over the screen. `Stand by!’

  Buck waved his fist. `Singled up to bow and stern ropes, sir!’

  The lookouts stepped up on to their respective gratings and made a big show of adjusting their night-glasses, knowing Marshall was just behind them.

  Blythe said, `There’s Lima, sir. Just conning round Guernsey’s bows.’

  `Good.’

  He thought suddenly of Gail. The feel of her skin under his fingers. The smell of her hair. It’s turned you into a machine. He found he was clenching his fists. Damn her. What the hell could he do about it?

  A light stabbed from the Guernsey’s bridge and Blythe was shuttering his acknowledgement with the hand-lamp before the signal had died.

  ‘Proceed when ready, sir.’ He turned and looked at him. ‘Good hunting, sir.’

  ‘Very good. Inform the control room.’ He hesitated, knowing Blythe was waiting. It was expected. The thing to do.

  ‘Make to Guernsey, Yeoman. Thanks for your help.’

  The depot ship would probably be embarked on a new scheme within a day or so. An experimental submarine, some new underwater device, a floating pier which the army had been asking for since he could remember. He watched Blythe’s light reflecting from the ship’s pitted plates. He doubted if they would ever tie up alongside her again.

  He shook himself angrily. ‘Let go aft!’ He waited, keeping his mind empty as the soft breeze pushed the hull reluctantly clear of their small consort. `Slow astern together.’ He waved to Buck. `Let go forrard!’