by Bali Rai
“This man is deceased,” said one of them. “We’ll have to cover him up. There’s nowhere to take the dead.”
“Dear God!” said Captain Morrow. “Those blasted Germans!”
Captain Ashdown rushed towards us from the beach, holding his cap.
“Morrow?” he called out.
“It’s Davis,” said Captain Morrow. “He’s had it, I’m afraid.”
Captain Ashdown knelt beside his fallen comrade and seemed to say a prayer, or perhaps whisper something in remembrance. I couldn’t be sure because a bomb exploded about a hundred yards away, leaving a massive crater on the beach.
“ATTACK!” yelled Captain Ashdown, jumping to his feet and blowing his whistle.
I hobbled towards the destroyed buildings, hoping to find some shelter, as a second wave of Stukas strafed us. Several bullets ripped into the side of the ambulance and I heard screaming.
“No!” I yelled, rushing to help, despite the danger.
The back of the truck was open, and I clambered aboard. The nurse who’d seen to Davis had been hit three times and was in a terrible state. The other younger nurse fought to find words over her shock.
“S…she…she…”
“Tend to her,” I said. “I will check on the driver.”
Climbing out again, I opened the driver’s door and he fell out on top of me. I pushed him aside with help from a British soldier.
“Can you drive?” I asked him.
“Pardon?” he asked over another wave of explosions and gunfire.
“Drive?” I shouted. “Can you operate this truck?”
The man nodded.
“We need to get it to cover,” I said. “Over to where the nurses are stationed. We cannot lose it!”
I jumped in, the other man beside me, and together we took the ambulance away from danger. Earlier that morning, whilst on my walk, I had found a field hospital, tucked away down a sheltered lane in Malo-les-Bains. I directed the driver towards it. But since my earlier sojourn, part of the route had been blocked by a fallen building and we had to find an alternative, under fire most of the way. The Germans seemed to have redoubled their efforts overnight.
Finally, after taking several more bullets, we edged into the medical zone, where the staff rushed about trying to save as many lives as possible. I jumped out and ran around the back, ignoring my gashed leg, and found the younger nurse crying.
“She died!” the woman wailed. “I tried, honest I did, but it were no use!”
As she wailed, and the driver joined me, I heard a familiar voice.
“Private Khan,” said Lillian. “Changed jobs, have you?”
I turned to her and tried to smile, but there was no humour to be found.
“They were hit on the seafront,” I said. “I’m afraid that one of your colleagues has died.”
Lilian’s face fell.
“I thought we should bring the ambulance to safety,” I added. “It would do no good to lose another. We will need it.”
Lillian nodded.
“Thank you both,” she said. “But there is no shelter here. Nowhere is safe from these monsters, I’m afraid.”
The driver left us, eager to return to his mates, and I sat on the truck’s step and watched as the people around me tried to do their jobs. Lillian held out her hand.
“Come on, son,” she said. “I’ll find you some tea.”
A smattering of bullets ripped into a wall not ten yards away.
“If we’re not killed first,” Lillian added. “Sometimes, I wonder if that might be best for all.”
I nodded and followed her.
“But then,” said Lillian, “I remember the pier at Brighton, and tea and stilton cheese, and I think it would be better to live.”
I thought of my dream, and my grandfather’s view that everything was fine, as long as you had tea.
“Tea would be most welcome,” I said.
18
A while later, as I was about to return to the seafront, Captain Ashdown appeared, carrying a man over his shoulder. He looked worn out, as he laid the man down and tried to catch his breath. When he spotted me, he seemed unconcerned at my presence, merely nodding in my direction.
“Injured?” asked Lillian.
Captain Ashdown shook his head. His cheeks were scarlet from his exertions.
“Deceased,” he replied.
It was Sergeant Davis’ body, wrapped in ragged tarpaulin, but with care and affection.
“I could not leave him there,” he told us. “Do you have a medical officer here?”
Lillian nodded. Her hair had come loose on the right side and hung over her ear.
“Two,” she said. “You’d like them to record his death?”
“Yes,” said my Captain. “He’s an officer, nurse. I’d like to afford him some dignity if possible.”
Lillian sighed and wiped her hands against her blood-spattered uniform.
“There’s no dignity here,” she said. “And we have no storage for the dead. I’m afraid it’s all rather improper, regardless of one’s status or rank.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and tension filled the space between them. Then Lillian smiled and the skin around her dark eyes creased.
“Would you like some tea, Captain?”
“Ashdown,” he replied. “And yes, please.”
He turned to me.
“Khan?” he enquired.
“Do you know our brave private?” Lillian asked.
“Yes,” said the Captain. “And I’m wondering why he’s here.”
“I helped to save an ambulance, sir,” I told him. “It had been strafed with bullets.”
“He also saved a nurse’s life, Captain,” Lillian added. “We could have lost two colleagues, were it not for Fazal Khan. I asked him to stay for some tea.”
“I see,” said Captain Ashdown. “Well done, Khan.”
I waited for him to send me back, but the order did not come. Instead, he sat on an upturned oil drum and bowed his head. Lillian went to a hastily erected mess tent, to fetch tea.
“Sir?” I asked.
“Yes, Khan?”
“Permission to…”
“Just speak, Private,” he told me, his tone revealing exasperation. “There’s no time for that nonsense now. Forget protocol!”
“I know,” I told him. “I heard you talking…”
“Know about what?” he asked.
“The order to leave us behind,” I said.
Chaos reigned all around us, yet at that moment, we could have been the only people there. Captain Ashdown’s face fell, and he shook his head.
“I see,” he said. “And you heard my feelings on the subject?”
I nodded.
“That is why I am speaking to you,” I told him. “You are the only one I can trust.”
“No, no,” said the Captain. “The others are good men. They’re just following orders, trying to cope with the lunacy of this mission.”
“No,” I replied. “Sergeant Buckingham hates us, and the others see us as beasts of burden, just like our poor mules. You are the only one who cares for us.”
Captain Ashdown was about to reply, when Lillian returned with two cups.
“I brought you some more,” she told me. “I hope there’s nothing urgent for you to return to.”
The captain scoffed.
“That’s exactly the point,” he told us. “There will be no more orders. I’ve been told to get as many men onto ships as I can, as soon as I can. Failing that, I should save myself…”
“You’ve explicitly been told this?” asked Lillian.
“As good as,” he replied. “It’s every man for himself from now on.”
Lillian coughed.
“I’m sorry,” said Captain Ashdown. “Women, too.”
“I think you’ll find we women stick together, regardless,” she told him. “It’s the job, Captain. I thought you chaps were the same.”
“We are,” I replied,
eager to defend my captain and my company. “But the situation is not of our making.”
“Pawns,” Lillian repeated from earlier that morning. “That is all we are. Pushed around some imaginary games board, whilst our masters drink brandy and make bombastic speeches to deceive those at home.”
Captain Ashdown’s shock was undisguised.
“How can you think such things?” he asked.
Lillian shrugged.
“Precisely because I can think for myself,” she replied. “Look around you, Captain. Who dies in these wars? Can you see an emperor, a prime minister or a chancellor here?”
“You’re a communist!” said Captain Ashdown.
“Not quite,” Lillian told him. “I am just a weary and disillusioned woman whose son is missing in action – a son whose father also disappeared after the Great War – and whose uncle was shamed and imprisoned because he defied polite society and fell in love.”
“But what of serving our country, our—”
“You mean as I have done?” I asked, anxious that I hadn’t overstepped the mark. “I have chosen to serve and yet I am to be cut loose, like my animals before me.”
When Lillian showed puzzlement, I explained what had been decided, and she grew enraged.
“That is utterly despicable!” she snapped at the Captain. “How can you allow this, sir?”
He shook his head.
“I cannot allow it,” he replied. “I will not allow it. It is morally wrong.”
Lillian nodded and placed a hand on his.
“Surely, you will be punished for disregarding an order,” she said.
“I should imagine so,” said the Captain, seemingly resigned to his fate.
“Punished for doing the morally decent thing,” she replied. “And you wonder why I am so disillusioned?”
He shrugged and looked at me.
“You realise we need to keep this from the men?” he said. “It will be difficult to control them should word get out.”
“It is already too late for that,” I told him. “But they will follow you, sir. If you explain yourself…”
As Captain Ashdown stared off into the distance, lost in his own thoughts, Lillian and I chatted a while longer. Eventually, a fresh wave of German fighter planes cut us short.
“Good luck,” she said to us, as we left.
“Thank you, madam,” I told her.
“Oh, Private Khan!” she replied with a smile. “I do hate being called madam. Lillian will do.”
“Lillian,” I repeated.
“And Captain?” she added.
“Yes, Miss?” he said, turning to face her.
“You are doing the right thing by these men,” she told him. “No matter what the outcome, do not forget that. Honour and duty are not always bound together. Sometimes, the most noble course of action is also the least welcome.”
19
On our return to the seafront, the rest of Company 32 were hanging around, taking cover when required, and generally restless. Captain Ashdown told me he wanted to bring the men together, but in the chaos, that would prove impossible. The area around the beaches had grown even busier, and to the west, the port of Dunkirk was ablaze. Several naval ships were stationed out at sea, and I could see a line of boats leading to one of them. Hundreds of soldiers made their way out, and many more stood on the beach, awaiting their own evacuation.
North of the port, and closest to us, a few smaller ships bobbed in the water, just past a mile-long concrete and wood jetty. The ships did not come any closer, and I guessed that the water was too shallow to allow it. Instead, they began dropping rowing boats and dinghies into the sea. A number of men waded out towards them, eager to get aboard, and once those on the beach realised, a great stampede began, with people being knocked over and trampled underfoot. Captain Ashdown had said it was every man for themselves, and now I saw it with my own eyes.
“Why don’t they show some discipline?” I asked.
“Because they have lost all sense of it,” Mush told me. “This is it, now. No more orders.”
As the day before, there was no one taking charge of the effort. Senior officers were around, but not one tried to organise the troops, or lead the evacuation. No one seemed to care any more. A general sense of apathy had tainted us all. So much so, that even the air raids seemed less frightening, and more of a nuisance. I’d heard and witnessed so many explosions, so many deaths and injuries, that I didn’t even feel scared.
Life or death were in the hands of Luck. As the Stukas peppered us with bullets and incendiaries, and the Heinkels dropped larger bombs, survival sat between simple lines. If you were within close proximity of a strike, you would probably be injured or killed. If you were lucky, and they missed your position, you lived. You could run or stand still, walk or crawl, take cover or not. None of it made a bit of difference. Chance was all you had. My mother had once told me that your life and death were written before you began your journey.
“When your time comes,” she’d said, “you cannot escape Fate.”
That fatalism, that many British thought applied only to the Indians, had now become their attitude too. On the beach, I saw British troops sitting in circles, playing cards and drinking tea, if they had any left. They made sandcastles with their hands and several were kicking a leather ball around. Many lay on their backs, taking in the air or snoozing as they waited for whatever came next, or they sat and laughed and joked with their friends and comrades. If not for the bombs and dead bodies, it could have been a scene from some bizarre military holiday.
“Khan!” Captain Ashdown shouted.
“Yes, sir!” I replied, approaching him.
He took me aside.
“We need to move quickly,” he explained. “The longer we leave it, the more chance of missing out. If word gets out about leaving you chaps behind, people may try to stop us.”
I smiled at his use of us. It rebuilt a little of the faith I had lost. However, organising the men would be almost unmanageable.
“How can we get them together?” I asked.
“Call the men,” said the captain. “But make the call in Punjabi. That way, they will understand, and the English speakers won’t. Get Private Ahmad to help you and anyone else you can trust. We’ll rendezvous over there.”
He pointed to a narrow lane that led from the coastal road, back into town. A half-destroyed clothing shop stood alone in the rubble of its former neighbours. A small battalion of battered and drained French soldiers trudged past it, heading for the port, too.
“Sir!” I said.
I rushed to find Mush, suddenly re-energised at the thought of evacuation. It did not take me long. My friend was lecturing a group of our comrades, stabbing at the air with an index finger to make his point.
“It’s time, Mush!” I yelled in Punjabi. “Gather the men!”
He looked confused, so I pointed at our rendezvous.
“Captain Ashdown’s orders,” I said, sticking to our mother tongue. “We must act quickly, before the others try to stop us.”
“We are leaving?”
“Yes!” I told him. “But only if we hurry. Help me tell the men and speak only in Punjabi. The British cannot know what we are planning!”
Mush nodded.
“So, the captain is willing to risk his medals for us?”
“I told you he was!” I replied. “We must trust him. Now, move!”
I grabbed a couple of other men. They already knew of our betrayal and were eager to help once I explained what was happening. Once they realised there was still hope.
“Inshallah!” one of them exclaimed. “Allah Rakka Ashdown-ji!”
His words meant “God Keep Captain Ashdown Safe” and became a little chorus. As Mush and the others gathered our company, I rushed away to find more of my comrades, and within half an hour, we were gathered at our meeting point.
Captains Ashdown and Morrow awaited us, alongside a miserable Sergeant Buckingham. His stubble had grown
through want of shaving and deep dark circles had formed around his eyes. He stood behind his seniors and paid little attention to what Captain Ashdown was saying.
“Right, men!” the captain shouted. “I must be brief – no time to lose! I’m sure most of you have heard rumours about being left behind—”
A few groans and shouts interrupted him, and he held up his hand.
“Let me be very clear,” he continued. “I will not leave a single living man behind.”
A huge cheer drew the attention of those round about us. Captain Ashdown realised and hurried to complete his address.
“We move now,” he said. “And quickly. I will go ahead with Captain Morrow and a few others, to find us a berth. The rest of you will follow, in groups of ten. Each of you is responsible for the other. Is that clear?”
The men nodded and shouted in approval.
“No man will be left behind unless they are killed. We cannot take the dead, and you are forbidden from carrying them. The injured will be your responsibility – each team to carry their own. We will show dignity and unity, and extreme discipline. Understood?”
Another roar of approval.
“If you get left behind, I cannot help you,” he added. “You will have to find your way onto a ship. But we must not let that happen. Hukum Hai, gentlemen!”
The troops looked at each other and then cheered.
“HUKUM HAI! HUKUM HAI!” they chanted.
I turned to Mush, who was grinning.
“At last!” he said. “Let’s go!”
I watched Sergeant Buckingham’s face explode with rage. He whispered to Captain Morrow, continually shaking his head. When Morrow replied, Buckingham threw his hands in the air, utterly disgusted.
“Stuff that!” I heard him shout.
He turned and walked away, and Captain Morrow shouted after him.
“Come back, Sergeant. That is an order!”
Buckingham turned and smiled.
“Court martial me,” he declared. “I dare you!”
He went on his way, and I worried that he might cause us trouble down the line. “Hopefully,” I said to Mush, “we’ll never see him again.”
“Good riddance,” Mush replied.
“Right, men!” Captain Ashdown yelled. “This is it. Move out!”
