by Dick Hardman
He had faith in his design. It had been well built and tested, and also he was driving, so at least had some control over his destiny. For the others, they had no faith at all in the contraption; it was desperately out of control. Deep down, they all knew the beacons were ruined. Certainly, they must have been smashed to pieces when this death-trap had smacked into the wall of water.
***
Pieter checked his watch and tried to estimate how much longer they should stay on board. Get off too soon and they would die in the ice cold sea, too late and they would be spotted by shore patrols.
Without knowing their speed, he was stumped. The water was rushing by, but being so near to it made it seem as if they were travelling much faster than they actually were. If he could see the shore, they were far too close.
His thoughts turned again to the team and he tried to imagine what they might be thinking.
***
Horst lay with his face towards Carina, but had closed his eyes tight shut long ago. He wondered how she was coping; she had stopped screaming around the same time he had shut his eyes. There was no point in screaming, actually. If there had been, he would still be doing it.
In his view, Pieter had totally ballsed-up the handling of the controls, he was going far too fast. They were 10 miles out and it would be several hours before patrols would be up and alert. As for the impact with the wave, every damned valve and circuit board would be useless, so the whole mission was a waste of time. We might as well go home now.
I wonder what the range of this thing is. Is there any chance of making it back to Alderney? He was not serious about Alderney, just trying hard to steer his thoughts away from their predicament.
***
Carina was not thinking anything, she had shit herself in terror and her life was now over. How could she face the others, the shame of it! The hot flood had drained down between her legs and momentarily provided some comfort, but now it was chilled and vile, and it was beyond her ability to cope.
***
Andreas had no doubts that Pieter would keep them safe. Shame he couldn’t keep the speed down, they might just as well have gone in by submarine.
I wonder if Pieter really would have killed me. He was probably a bit tense, the mission and all. It was Carina’s fault, shouting at me. I was only trying to lighten things up and take their minds off things. She is a bitch actually and Horst is a cocky bugger.
***
Above the hiss and thump of the sea rushing past, they could all hear the sound of aircraft getting nearer. At the same time, they also realised the fog had cleared. Horst looked behind and was horrified to see the white wake they were creating.
“Pieter, look behind, we are leaving a large wake, what if the pilots see it?”
He looked back in dismay, the plane’s engine note had changed. It was descending and lining up to strafe them.
“If I stop, they will hit us. I cannot turn, because of the gyro, and if I switch it off, we will be lost at sea.” He shouted his dilemma, as the Spitfire opened up.
Horst watched as the tracer shells stitched a neat line towards them.
“Horst, Andreas, help me move the steering lever.”
Momentarily, the craft darted slightly to the left by just more than its width, then snapped back onto a parallel heading. The long strip of fountains in the cannon shell-torn sea zipped past, missing them by a hair’s breadth, as the plane flashed by overhead. They were still alive, but sitting ducks for the next plane.
“It is at times like this I wish German engineering was less perfect. The gyro must be powerful enough to steer a battleship.” Pieter thought the situation was so hopeless, an attempt at humour was the only thing left.
***
The next plane was coming in very low, right on target by the look of it, so in an act of sheer desperation, Pieter decided to try something - anything.
“Fit your masks and rebreathers, we are diving.”
He checked the team were ready, and rammed the power lever to maximum as they hit the wave. They burst through, rising up and plunged right down. The scream of the propellers was drowned out by the turbulence of the passing water, shaking the trailing edge of the roof and floor. The pressure as they plunged ever deeper, was hurting their ears and forcing the water fully into the cabin.
Pieter switched off the gyro, though it would take a minute or so to stop spinning, and eased the steering control slightly forward. The craft darted a few degrees to port and Pieter switched the gyro back on. Instantly, the craft returned to the correct heading, but on a course parallel to the original track. He prayed this would be enough to escape the rain of cannon shells that would be pouring into the sea, where they had just been.
The pressure on their ears was easing, and the water in the cabin receded as the craft began to rise. Then, unexpectedly, it levelled off; perhaps they would not break surface like a dolphin this time. Whatever speed they had reached, was optimum for the tube length and wing effect of the shallow cabin. Buoyancy and hydrodynamics were working in perfect balance. The cabin stayed about level with the trough of the wave, the craft being pushed down with the weight of water flowing over the roof.
The second Spitfire had passed over, the remaining four followed on and circled, but could no longer see any sign of the craft. Eventually they turned and headed back to base.
***
The craft had been underwater for several minutes at full power, and the batteries were losing charge. There was a lot of power left because the batteries were now working at their design voltage, it was just that the topping up charge had been used up. With this in mind, Pieter eased back on the power control and found it was now responding in a less aggressive manner. He could smoothly control the speed, from just a few knots up to maximum.
Now the craft was gliding gently along on the surface, and Horst peered out the back of the cabin.
“I can’t see or hear the planes. Do you think we are out of danger now? “
“We can only die once. If the planes don’t come back, there are many other ways for us to die before we get to relative safety. The most important question is, where are we in relation to the shore?
“Horst, take over at the controls, I need to take a look around.”
Pieter eased out of the cabin and, pulling his headgear away from his ear, he listened. Apart from the slap of waves against the thin metal floats, it was quiet. The sky was clear of mist, and the clouds had broken up allowing the starlight through. Looking around, he fancied there was a hint of lighter sky on the horizon; a thin band, directly ahead. It could be just his eyes playing tricks, or wishful thinking, but also, it could be cliffs.
Back inside again, Pieter announced, “Listen up, I think we are getting close to shore. There are cliffs where we are headed, I believe I can just make them out. Andreas, come out here with me. Look and listen, tell me what you find.” Being the youngest, Andreas was likely to have the most sensitive hearing.
Reluctantly and stiffly Andreas eased out of the shallow cabin and stood on a float for better sensing. He held the headgear away from his ears to funnel the sound.
“Pieter, I hear waves hitting rocks, far away.”
“I can’t, but that may be because my ears were damaged months ago. We will stay on course at this speed, until I can hear it too. Then we sink this float and swim in underwater.”
“OK Pieter, do you want me here, or inside?”
“Stay, look and listen, we must be absolutely sure.”
Five minutes later, there was no doubt that the cliffs were ahead, and they all prepared to leave the float.
***
Carina refused to speak, but did what she had to. The underwater suit was a mixed blessing; it did not let out smells, but kept in the cold ooze that ran down her legs and squelched around her ankles, as she paddled upright in the sea. Surely her misery could get no worse than this?
They unloaded the slightly buoyant packs of beacons and kit, and tied them togethe
r onto a silent Carina, who floated with them in the icy water.
“Horst, Andreas, take a float each and remove the three bungs. Horst, start with the front, Andreas the rear. Do the top one last of all. I want the craft to settle evenly and not flip over on you, as you work.”
Pieter swam to Carina and helped her pull the load clear, standing off until the other two reached them.
It was a sad moment for Pieter as he saw his extraordinary creation settle, and a minute later, slip under the water, to spend eternity on the sea bed. They all felt the same fear of abandonment as they bobbed together in the loneliness of the icy black sea.
Taking a pack each, they stealthily glided towards the shore with long slow strokes, so as to avoid splashing.
Having swam within several hundred yards off shore, the narrow strip of beach loomed large and the cliff towered above them. It then struck Pieter that something was wrong. According to the map in his head, the land should run out to sea, on the right, but it didn’t, there was no sign of it.
“Stop, I think we are in the wrong bay,” he whispered. “We should be further to the right.”
They headed away, back into the blackness, keeping roughly parallel with the shore.
The waves were quite small in the sheltered bay, and with the starlight reflecting off the wet fabric of their suits, there was a constant risk of being seen. They could not swim underwater yet, they needed to see where they were heading. A compass is fine for direction, but no help at all when distance is the issue.
They were all increasingly aware of a greater danger than being seen by the enemy, lurking on the shore.
Every movement was a supreme effort. The freezing water had penetrated their bones and they realised hypothermia was setting in.
The sound of a rock falling carried across the water and they quickly sank below the waves, hanging on to each other. Pieter gradually surfaced without his mask, he did not want the glass reflecting back to anyone who might be watching. There was a pinprick red glow of a cigarette and the faint sound of voices. Soldiers were out there, hidden amongst the rocks, waiting to pounce on them.
Now what the hell were they going do?
***
Pieter replaced his mask, facing away from the shore and cleared it underwater. He grabbed someone, it was Horst, and pulled in the direction they needed to swim; linked together, the others followed.
By checking the compass and his watch, Pieter estimated they had swam half a mile and by pointing his torch at the seaweed covered rocks on the seabed, he could see it was rising quickly.
Slowly he surfaced and removed his mask. They had reached the headland between bays; another quarter mile and they would be in the right bay. It was only a few hundred yards more to the exit point from the sea. There were no signs of activity in the rocks of this bay, but that did not mean troops would not be lying in wait for them.
Onwards they swam, only surfacing when the water was too shallow to stay down.
Pieter whispered, “Horst, take my kit and keep everyone together, here. I am going ashore to scout around, so watch for my signal; I will flash once, and then you can come to me. If there is trouble, you will have to make your own way. Note where I go ashore because everywhere else will be mined.
“Continue up the path and you will find a lorry with a missing front wheel. Lower the tailboard very carefully, and beneath the rubble there will be a place where you can hide. Get in and keep perfectly quiet. At some point, someone will come to fit the wheel and drive you away to safety.”
Pieter glided forward to the exit point, and stealthily crawled along towards the path. He lay there under cover of small rocks, listening and looking out for the enemy.
***
Moments later, several grenade explosions could be heard, over in the bay they had come from. Soldiers suddenly emerged from the rocks just in front of Pieter, torches lit, running towards the explosions. Obviously Sundown had set up this crucial diversion. Bless his heart.
***
Praying the coast was now clear, Pieter flashed. Like crocodiles sneaking up on their prey at a waterhole, the team emerged and slipped silently up the path. Pieter waited behind to make sure no soldiers had been smart, realising it had been a diversion, and stayed hidden. He decided the team was safe, and sprinted to catch up with them.
Up ahead was the lorry, parked by a ruined boat house, just as described in Sundown’s message to Berlin. The front wheel was missing so it would not have been considered a viable form of transport by the army on patrol. The lorry bed was piled high with bricks and rubble, but concealed beneath it was a large wooden box about two feet high internally, made out of roof timbers from the ruin. Quietly they lowered the tailboard and eased their kit up towards the front of the box. Thankfully, someone had oiled the hinges so they did not squeak, and placed a layer of empty sacks over the metal bed, to deaden the sounds of movement.
All but Carina removed their immersion suits, dried off and put on their overalls.
“Get your suit off and packed away, Carina, we cannot hang about. The soldiers will be back at any moment.”
“I am so sorry Pieter. I was so scared. I shit myself. I am in a terrible mess.” Her English phrases were noticeably shorter than usual.
Pieter pulled her to him to comfort her, and kissed her forehead.
“No one here will think less of you for that, but we must get under cover, or we are all for it. Those soldiers were waiting for us. Someone will decide the explosions were a distraction, so this area will be searched thoroughly.
”Keep your suit on, get up in the back of the lorry with the others. Your white body will be seen if you go back in the sea, and we can’t clean you off here, because it will leave signs. Also the smell might be noticed. We will all huddle together in the box and keep you warm.”
Pieter helped her up into the cramped cavity, pulling the tailboard closed behind them. Carina could feel the shit filled suit squelching as she moved.
About five minutes later, the soldiers returned. They crept stealthily down to the sea, then looked around the ruin and clambered over the lorry. The rubble crunched and the timbers sagged, inches above their hiding place as the soldiers scrambled about. It filled the four of them with a new dread.
The men stabbed with bayonets and lifted large chunks of masonry, checking that no one was hiding underneath. Would they discover the timber box in there, or would it all collapse on the spies, crushing them to death?
Finding no one, the soldiers moved on with their search.
***
At 7.00am, Pieter and the team heard a van approaching. They all tensed and held their breath, listening intently. Could this be the person who would take them to safety? It stopped and two men got out, carrying the missing wheel, having repaired the imaginary puncture, and set about fitting it.
Pieter guessed there were soldiers watching them and that they had probably been guarding the truck all night, in case anyone hid there after the search. Most likely this was the reason why the men made no attempt to contact anyone hiding in the box. Half an hour later, the van and lorry started and drove off, apparently to dump the rubble.
After a few minutes, the lorry pulled up inside a large Nissen hut, part of the builder’s yard. The building doors were closed, and the two men dropped the tailboard to help Pieter and his team to slide out. Their welcome was not warm, but tense and threatening.
“Who is Glass?” snapped the senior man, who had probably driven the lorry, judging by the voices.
“I am.” Pieter replied. “I am known by my team as Pieter Klein, so can we use that name please.”
“As you wish. Call me Dan Stockley.
“Sundown has paid me to take you to an address in London. I see you are all in boiler suits, like workmen, good. So we can take you in the van to the safe house. You will find your normal clothes there, and other things you will need, as well as a coded message from Sundown.
“We need to go now, because I have ac
tual work to get done.”
Andreas and Horst had unloaded the kit and joined Pieter whilst Stockley was speaking.
“I thought there were four of you?” Stockley questioned.
“There is, but the one in the box needs to clean up, and is not well. Do you have a hose pipe so she can get washed?”
“Sick, you say. Nothing catching I hope, you foreigners are riddled with diseases according to the radio. What’s wrong with her?”
“While we were swimming to shore, she had a bad stomach and, well, she needs to clean up and rest. She has a bit of a temperature that’s all.”
“We don’t have a toilet here, we piss outside. You will have to hose her down by the floor drain, over there.” He pointed to a small drain grid in the floor.
“I don’t have any towels either.”
The man stomped off, grumbling to himself as he dragged the hose over. Then he and the other man walked out of the building.
***
Horst and Andreas had to help Carina out of the box and steady her; she was in a bad way. Pieter supported her as the others pulled off her suit. She stood naked and covered in her own filth; the smell was atrocious. The skin on her lower half was blood red and badly infected. To top it all, the skin from her neck down was wrinkled like a dried prune, caused by the moisture that had been trapped within the suit.
Carina huddled there, sobbing with pain and the shame of it all. The three of them washed her off, taking great care not to further damage her skin when they towelled her dry.
Pieter spoke to the others, greatly concerned. “Carina is burning up with fever. We will need medical assistance when we get to London. Help her into the boiler suit and she can rest in the van. We must clean inside her underwater suit as well. Most likely we will need all of our gear later.”
Horst and Andreas cleaned, dried and packed her equipment, stowing it with theirs in the van.
The driver returned, and Pieter had a surprise for him.
“I hope this will compensate you for the extra trouble,” and handed him four forged £5 notes.
The look on the man’s face confirmed Pieter’s opinion that Stockley was really only motivated by money. Betrayal was just a payment away!
