Breakout (Combined Operations Book 7)

by Griff Hosker

  Both of them knew what was coming. Their heads hung. "I know you two want to come with us and it does you great credit but I can't do you any favours. We can't afford passengers. At the moment neither of you are fit enough to come with us."

  Sergeant Poulson knew his shortcomings better than anyone else. "I know we were poor this morning, sir. Give us a chance. I reckon we can turn it around in four or five days."

  "We haven't got four or five days. In six days we get the passwords and in seven we go. In five days I want us practising not getting fit. You have three days."

  They nodded and Sergeant Poulson said, "Fair enough sir. We'll be ready."

  I gathered all the maps from the walls and allowed them to leave. They would want to talk. Bill Leslie was leaning over the bridge smoking his pipe as I came out. "Those two didn't look happy, sir. It's not like you to upset your lads."

  "I know. I just told them that they weren't fit enough to come on the operation."

  He nodded and tapped his pipe against his hand and then dropped the ash over the side, "I can see how they would be upset but you are right, sir. On this ship you can carry a wound and still do your job but you and your lads..." He smiled, "It comes with the rank eh sir?"

  "It does but I am glad that it is the 523 we will be using. She is a lucky boat."

  He looked over to the Oerlikon gun where the young gunner had had his head blown off on D-Day. "Not for everyone, sir."

  I nodded. His death was a reminder that the margins between life and death were measured in inches.

  Poulson and Hay were not the only ones who improved during the afternoon run. Everyone was aware that I would be true to my word. It think Corporal Hewitt had spoken to them and given them advice. He knew his job. Even though there was an improvement Poulson and Hay were still minutes behind us. I saw the two of them closeted together as we ate our evening meal and I wondered what they were cooking up.

  The morning run saw another improvement but instead of going to breakfast when they had finished Hay and Poulson headed for the sea. Intrigued I followed them. They both stripped down to swimming trunks and dived in. Bill Hay had been a frogman with me in North Africa and I knew he was a good swimmer. I wondered what they were doing. I went to the mess for breakfast. I had finished and was with Reg Dean. I had put Corporal Hewitt in for a promotion to Lance Sergeant. With Poulson and Hay unfit I needed a second in command. John had said he didn't want to be a sergeant as it would mean leaving the section but I could have a second lance sergeant on the books. I wanted to see if it had gone through.

  I was just leaving the office when I saw them, "What were you two up to this morning?"

  Poulson looked embarrassed, "Bill said swimming was a better way to get fit sir. Less impact. He was right. I feel better after the swim and I think we will make the standard!"

  "Good. We will see this afternoon. We will have a new Lance Corporal with us. He arrives this morning. Major Foster thinks we need another man until we get Gordy and the others back."

  "A new man sir? Not a recruit?"

  "No Sergeant Hay but make him welcome eh? Play nice."

  "Of course, sir."

  I was not convinced by their answers.

  Joe Wilkinson was a big Commando. Sergeant Poulson was the biggest in my section and Joe was his equal. I discovered that he had been a rugby player and had represented the army against the navy. That meant he was fit, touch and agile. All great attributes for a Commando. He was a serious soldier and not given to smiles. That marked him different to my team. He was ramrod straight when he reported to me.

  "Stand at ease, Lance Corporal." Even with his feet apart he looked rigid. "I appreciate your joining us. We were knocked about a bit at Bréville and we will need you on this one."

  "Yes sir. I have heard of your section. Behind the lines a lot eh sir?"

  "That's right. Leave your gear here and we will have a wander down to the landing craft. I will fill you in." I did not sugar the pill as I gave him all the details. He did not seem to be unhappy about any of the problems we might have to deal with. "And your German, how good is that?"

  "Fluent sir. My mum ran a lodging house in Harwich, sir. When I was growing up we had loads of sailors staying with us. They were mainly German and Dutch. I can speak both. I enjoyed picking up the words and it seemed to come naturally."

  "Good. And does your mum still take in lodgers?"

  "No sir, she died last year. They were bombed."

  I nodded. We had had digs in Harwich and even in the early days of the war it was an easy target for German bombers. "Sorry to hear that, Wilkinson."

  He shrugged, "It's this bloody war sir. Everyone I know has lost someone. She is with dad now. He was lost at sea in nineteen forty."

  I liked him. He did not feel sorry for himself and yet he had lost everything, "Look, Joe, I will be honest with you. We are a tight team and you know how Commandos are."

  "Don't worry sir. It's not a popularity contest. We'll all do our jobs. If they don't like me well they can lump it eh sir?"

  "A good attitude to have. We will be out for another run this afternoon. The two sergeants are both recovering from wounds. If they are not up to muster then they won't be coming on the operation. You ought to know that because if they don't that makes you third in command."

  "Right sir. I won't let you down."

  "Then let's go to meet them. It is about time for our run." They were all waiting with their Bergens outside the barracks. I introduced the new man. "This is Lance Corporal Joe Wilkinson. He will be with us for this mission. He speaks German and, I think you will all agree, that will be fairly useful."

  Scouse quipped, "Yer mean I won't get to tryout me Scouse German again?"

  "Hopefully not Scouse!"

  My new Commando showed his mettle when we went for our afternoon run. He could have stayed at the front, on the run, with me. Instead he stayed at the back with Hay and Poulson. It was a good start. He was giving them what they needed, encouragement. The next morning I noticed that Hay was not at the back. He was keeping up with Fletcher and Private Beaumont. They too had improved. The swimming had helped. However despite everyone's best efforts Sergeant Poulson was not ready after three days. I took him with me to the landing craft to give him the bad news.

  Before I had spoken he said, "Sir, let me make this easy for you. I am not ready to go behind the lines. I would jeopardise the mission. Bill and Joe Wilkinson have done their best. I am fitter than I was and I reckon in ten days or so I will be back to my best but that will be too late. You can't afford to have me in the operation."

  I nodded, "Thank you for that."

  "But sir, I can still come to Normandy with you. I don't need to be fit to help Fred with the vehicles. I can be armourer for the German weapons. I can still be useful, sir. And I'll be there on the boat when you come back." I was not certain and it must have shown on my face. "What's the alternative sir? Sit on my arse here and do bugger all?"

  I smiled, "No, you are probably right. Then until you are fit you can be company clerk and armourer!"

  "Suits me sir. I'll still be with the lads and you. That is all that matters."

  "Don't forget you will have a fresh faced lieutenant to baby sit too!"

  His face fell. "I had forgotten Lieutenant Ross sir."

  "Sitting on your arse doesn't look so bad now does it?"

  The Lieutenant arrived the day before we were due to embark. He came laden. He had maps, charts, photographs and a plethora of documents. We all moved on to the LCA. It was more secure and we would be leaving the next day. We had our new radio and the Lieutenant spent some time with Poulson and Fletcher going through the code words we would use. Equally important were the passwords we would need to get through our lines. The Canadians and Highlanders had taken heavy casualties and experienced the S.S. Anyone speaking German was likely to be short first and questioned later. Having seen how the S.S. worked I could understand that attitude.

  My section
all smiled as we left Southampton. The young lieutenant donned his helmet. Scouse Fletcher said, "Is it going to rain then sir?"

  The lieutenant looked confused as he realised he was the only one wearing a helmet. "I thought it was standard operating procedure, sir."

  "We are Commandos and we don't normally wear them but unless Jerry actually attacks us we should be fine, Lieutenant, and ignore our Liverpudlian friend. He regards himself as the section comedian! If he continues this way he could be on pan bash for a week!"

  "Sorry sir. Just trying to lighten the mood!"

  I joined Bill Leslie and the skipper on the bridge. It had been a month earlier when we had last crossed this water and that had been at night. I was anxious to see the journey in daylight. The waterway was busy. We still had no port and Mulberry had been destroyed in the recent storms but landing craft could still make the crossing and deliver vital supplies. They would land on the beach as they had on D-Day. We were lucky that PLUTO still operated and our vehicles in France had plenty of fuel. We were in a convoy escorted by two Hunt class destroyers. In the two weeks since we had crossed back to Blighty the RAF had largely cleared the skies of the Luftwaffe but there were always fanatics who would risk almost certain death to strike a blow against the allies.

  It was late afternoon when we entered the Orne river canal. I saw the ruined Casino where so much fighting had taken place and the beach was still littered with the last of the damaged vehicles from the battle. Little could be seen to the north where we had fought at Bréville. There were just some blackened scars amongst the trees and a few damaged farmhouses. I knew that if we walked it we would see a different story. We passed under the bridge which had been taken by the paratroopers. The last time we had seen it we were racing across to reinforce the Airborne Division. It seemed so far away and yet it was just three weeks since we had fought there. It was no wonder that Sergeant Poulson had not recovered from his wound.

  Caen had only recently been liberated and isolated pockets of Germans were still being discovered hiding out in cellars, bunkers and half ruined buildings. The allied bombing had made the historic old city a mass of rubble and broken buildings. It was one reason it had been so hard to take. Someone had made a mistake in ordering the bombing! There were few which still stood and those that did were not whole. It was a depressing journey. The river, however, was under firm British control and we were assigned a berth by the new harbour master. He was an organized and elderly RNVR.

  "Ah you must be the cloak and dagger boys we have been expecting. This berth is well out of the way." He pointed to a half ruined building. "You can use that over there. It has a roof and three walls. It should suit. Anyway if you need anything then let me know."

  With that he was gone. "Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Poulson we will leave you to organise that building. Hay and Wilkinson, you take half the men. You know what we are looking for. Emerson and Private Beaumont, you are with me and Corporal Fletcher. We will leave our gear on the LCA for the time being.

  I knew that there had been fierce fighting around the town. Although most of the bodies had been moved already there were still enough for us to find where the fiercest fighting had been. That was where we searched for weapons. We looked for half demolished buildings which had yet to be made safe. We headed west. That would have been where the main assault took place, There was an area of houses which had been half flattened by the bombing. I saw something sticking from the rubble. When I reached it I saw that it was a hand. The smell told me it was a dead body. We began to lift aways the bricks and stones. It was an infantryman. We would not touch his uniform but his equipment would be handy. After we had moved him we found another three men beneath him. Two of them had Mauser rifles which still worked and one the MG 42. We found four grenades and a couple of daggers. I took on the grisly task of finding their papers. They were as valuable as their weapons.

  We moved on. We began to find buildings which still stood and had avoided the bombing. One was a sandbagged, residential building which suggested German occupation. Bizarrely the door had been locked. Corporal Fletcher said, "I can have a go at picking it if you like sir."

  "We don't need to be silent we need to be quick. Break it down."

  When we broke in we were, at first, disappointed. I had expected it to be important but I saw that it was just a requisitioned house. The lounge showed that Germans had used it. There was a half empty packet of Rote Hande cigarettes. I did not smoke but I took them. They were popular amongst the German soldiers. There was also a box with three cigars. They had a swastika wrapper around them and I took them too.

  Emerson shouted from the kitchen, "Sir, I have found some German rations."

  "Grab them! They are like gold. Private Beaumont, Fletcher, upstairs and see what you can find."

  "And a rucksack!" It was Emerson again. He was lucky.

  I went into the kitchen. He was not there but the back door was open and there was a garden shed. Fred was about to open it. I joined him and we tugged it open. It was like Aladdin's cave. It was where the Germans, who had been bivouacked in the house, had stored their ammunition and grenades. These were obviously what I would term, 'old soldiers'. They had hoarded equipment and ammunition for the hard times. I wondered why they had not reclaimed their equipment and then realised that the lounge looked as though they had just left quickly. Locking the door showed that they intended to return.

  "Gold dust eh sir?" He took another German rucksack from a peg behind the door.

  "It certainly is, Fred. Let's get it packed."

  I heard a shout from indoors but it did not sound as though it was a cry of pain. We gathered all the ammunition. It would fit both the Mauser and the MG. We had enough, if we found more weapons, to go to war! When we went back inside, Private Beaumont and Fletcher had come down stairs and they had German uniforms in their hands. There were six greatcoats and four complete sets of tunics and trousers. "Jackpot sir! They were all in the wardrobe."

  "Right. We have ammo and grenades. Let's get back to the boat and we will see what the others have found." I decided that if we could get away with it we would wear the greatcoats and caps. We would be travelling in the dark and they would help with our disguise. Everything now depended upon getting vehicles.

  We received strange looks as we hurried through the town. The French gave us wary looks while the British soldiers we met just looked at us curiously. The others had not returned but Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Poulson had managed to make a rough fourth wall and sweep out the floor. Sergeant Poulson said, "We have slept in worse sir."

  "It'll do. What is the upstairs like?"

  "A bit dirtier than here, sir."

  "Right lads take our ill gotten gains up the stairs."

  When Bill Hay led the other half of our men back they too had had success. They had papers. Three rifles, two helmets and three caps. We already had some caps and now we had enough for everyone. It was coming together. "What about vehicles?"

  "Sorry sir, we saw bugger all."

  Private Beaumont said, "Sir we are looking in the wrong place. There was so much bomb damage that any vehicles hit in the town would be beyond repair. Fred and I can only repair so much. We need to look between here and Ouistreham."

  "Good idea. That is our job tomorrow then."

  We ate aboard the LCA. Our conversation drifted towards vehicles. It proved useful for the petty officer in charge of the engines said, "When I was talking to the harbour master about spares he told me that they are collecting all the old vehicles just along the canal. They are going to load them on a barge and ship them back to England to be melted down and made into new tanks and the like. Might be worth having a scavenge there."

  I nodded, "Thanks. Lieutenant Ross, did the Major or the Colonel give you any authorisation?"

  "Authorisation sir?"

  "Yes, you know a piece of paper letting us take what we need. I am sure he will have done. The Major is not stupid."

  The young offic
er coloured. "There might be, sir. He gave me some letters and documents. I was more concerned with the passwords."

  "Well cut along and fetch them eh? They might come in handy!"

  Bill Leslie smiled and rolled his eyes. We had both experienced young officers like Ross. They meant well but were born without an ounce of common sense. In time he might make a decent officer but that was the key phrase, 'in time'. He rushed back in clutching a handful of documents. He looked like Neville Chamberlain when he had come back from meeting Hitler."Yes sir! We have it!"

  "Good, then tomorrow you can go to this dump with Emerson and Private Beaumont and see what you can find. The rest of us will continue to search for any equipment that might be lying around."

  The next morning we left bright and early. We headed for the eastern side of Caen. That had been the last to be liberated. It was a long shot but we needed more guns and grenades. We were on our way back, in the late afternoon, when we stumbled upon our greatest find. Just before noon we had met some Canadian soldiers. They were led by a sergeant and they were heading to the camp where the prisoners were being held before being shipped back to England. They were escorting ten soldiers. It had been tempting to ask for their uniforms but I knew that would not go down well. However I saw two Canadians pulling a handcart and it was stacked with weapons.

  I pounced. "Sergeant, have you got a moment?"

  He took in my flashes and grinned, "A Commando. My cousin was on the Dieppe raid. He spoke highly of you guys."

  "Yes that was a hard battle. You had some good chaps there. Captain Friedmann, Sergeant Hutchinson, good chaps all."

  "Jake Hutchinson! That's my cousin! What a small world! Sir do you mind if I shake you by the hand?" I held out my hand and he almost crushed it in his ham like fist."Now then sir what can I do for you?"

  "What are you going to do with those weapons?"

  "These? We hand them over to the armourer." He shrugged, "After that ... Why sir?" I saw curiosity etched all over his face.