‘Hey, Jack, what they like?’ one of the men said.
‘Real beauties.’
There was a lot of scuffling in the back as the men took turns to have a look through the gap at them.
‘Be careful,’ Alice laughed. ‘You’re rocking the lorry, and my friend has only just passed her driving test today.’
‘Bloody hell! We’ve been bombed, shot at and nearly drowned, only to find ourselves at the mercy of a woman driver.’
Alice turned until she could look at the men in the back. ‘Not just any woman driver. This one’s better than most men, and if we break down she can fix anything mechanical.’
‘In that case, Miss, we could have done with you on our boat. I didn’t think the poor old thing was going to make it, and I didn’t have the energy left to row the rest of the way.’
The banter continued, and Becky relaxed, leaving Alice to do her best to make the men smile. Something her friend had said niggled at her, though. Had she really seen Will jumping into a boat? It was the kind of crazy thing he would do. She shook her head slightly, dismissing the worrying idea. It was highly unlikely. Still, she would get in touch with her parents as soon as she could, just to set her mind at ease.
Dover was crowded with ships, and Doug had to steer expertly to reach the open sea without colliding with larger vessels. They’d only been going for about an hour when they came across a tug wallowing helplessly without power. It was packed with troops all waving frantically at them.
Doug steered close and shouted, ‘What’s your trouble? Are you out of petrol?’
‘No, we’ve got enough, but the engine’s packed up and we can’t get it started again.’
‘Does the captain know what’s wrong?’
‘He ain’t aboard, mate. He got killed when he went on to the beach. Only got a young lad here, and he can drive this thing, but don’t know nothing about engines.’
‘Hell,’ Doug muttered before turning to Will. ‘Know anything about engines?’
‘A bit, but if my sister was here she’d soon sort it out. She’s the mechanic in our family. I’ll give it a go, though, if you can get me close.’
It wasn’t easy, but with a lot of help and shouts of encouragement from the soldiers, Will managed to tumble on to the tug. After taking a look at the tug’s old engine, Will was at a complete loss. He really did need his sister, he thought wryly. These men had to get home so he’d better try and fix the thing, because the Lucky Lara couldn’t possibly take all these men. Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket he began by wiping away some of the grease, and tightening anything he could see with a spanner from a nearby toolbox.
‘What do you think, lad?’ A soldier pushed his way through the crowded boat and hunkered down beside him.
‘Well, there doesn’t appear to be much wrong.’ There was no way Will was going to admit that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. These men were so close to home, and somehow they had to make that last little bit. One look at their faces was enough to tell him how desperate they were. ‘Perhaps the petrol isn’t getting through. I’ll check that.’
Fifteen minutes later Will sat back on his heels and shouted, ‘Try it now.’
The engine coughed and spluttered, but refused to start. ‘Nearly,’ the soldier said. ‘Keep at it, lad.’
Will was losing heart. This was like nothing he’d ever tackled. ‘It must be the fuel intake,’ he said, hoping it sounded as if he knew what he was doing.
He lost track of the time as he struggled. If he couldn’t make it work then they would have to take the men off a few at a time and ferry them back to Dover. The poor devils had suffered enough. They couldn’t just leave them here hoping someone else would come along who was able to help.
‘Again!’ he called, not holding out much hope.
After several belching coughs and puffs of black smoke, the engine roared into life. Will was so surprised he could only stare at the engine in disbelief as the men cheered.
‘Well done!’
He was hauled back on deck, slapped on the back, and surrounded by smiling faces. It was nothing short of a miracle that he’d been able to get the engine started again, but he didn’t care how it had happened, he felt so good. He was relishing being in the thick of things.
‘You haven’t far to go now and you should be all right.’ He grimaced as he looked at Doug. Both boats were tossing about. ‘All I’ve got to do now is get back to my boat.’
Doug took a chance and came as close as he could. Will didn’t hesitate – he leapt over and landed on his hands and knees on the deck.
‘You take care over there,’ one of the men called out. ‘It’s bloody dangerous.’
They waved as the tug resumed her journey, then Doug headed towards the French coast once again.
The situation was as desperate as the last time they’d been here. There were still thousands of men waiting to be picked up, and they immediately began ferrying men over to a navy ship. Suddenly all hell broke loose as planes screamed in, firing on the beaches and boats near the shoreline.
Will continued pulling men into the boat when he heard Doug gasp and fall backwards. With one mighty heave, Will dragged the man he was holding into the boat, then rushed to Doug’s side. He was clutching his right arm trying to stop blood from flowing.
‘Something hit me,’ he gasped.
‘I’ll go ashore and see if I can find a medic.’ Will was scrambling to his feet when Doug stopped him.
‘They’ve got enough to do, lad. I’ll be all right. Just find something to bind my arm.’
‘He’s right.’ One of the soldiers already on board joined them. ‘It’ll be desperate on the beaches after that attack. Let’s try and patch him up ourselves.’
Grateful for the man’s calm help, Will removed his jacket and shirt, then began tearing the shirt into strips for bandages. It was a nasty wound, but thankfully the bleeding eased once the arm was bound.
With a grunt of relief, Doug sat up, wiping the sweat from his face. ‘Get ten men on board, Will, and we’ll head back. You’ll have to steer. You all right with that?’
‘I can do it.’ Will nodded to the soldier who had helped him. ‘Thanks; you seemed to know what you were doing.’
‘I’ve had a deal of practice lately. My name’s Alan, by the way.’
‘Let’s get back to Dover as quickly as possible, Alan. Doug needs medical help.’
They set about pulling men from the water and soon the boat was about full. ‘Room for one more,’ Will said, holding his hand out to an officer.
‘I’ve still got men on the beach.’ He lifted one exhausted man on to the boat, and began wading back to the shore.
‘Good luck, Colonel Hammond,’ Alan shouted. ‘See you back in Dover.’
Will had a lump in his throat, sad to leave so many men behind, and couldn’t help wondering what chance that officer had of surviving. Very little, he guessed. From the determined look on his face he was obviously going to stay until all his men were safe.
Knowing there was nothing else they could do, Will started the engine and headed out to sea.
It didn’t take them long to realise that Doug wasn’t the only casualty of the attack. They were taking on water. Again Alan came to the rescue by organising the men, and the tin hats were used to bail out the boat. It wasn’t too bad, but these men were exhausted, and Will didn’t think they would be able to keep it up all the way back.
‘We’ll get it fixed,’ Alan told Doug. And, taking one man with him, he began tracking down the leak.
Doug joined Will at the wheel, his face pinched with pain, but a smile on his face. ‘We’ll be all right, lad. I don’t think the damage is bad.’
‘To you or the boat?’ he asked dryly.
‘Both.’ He sighed deeply. ‘But this is the last trip this poor old boat will be able to make, unless we can get her patched up.’
Will glanced at him in amazement. ‘The only place you’re going is to hospital
.’
‘I guess you’re right.’ He pulled a face and gripped his arm. ‘But I hate leaving those men behind.’
‘There are other boats here, and more arriving all the time.’ Alan stood beside them, wiping his hands. ‘You’ve done enough. I know this isn’t your first trip because I saw you before. We found a leak and have plugged it. With luck it will hold until we get back.’
The water had stopped coming in and the men spread out, trying to catch some sleep. With Doug navigating and Will at the wheel, they made it safely back to Dover. The men were immediately taken care of and Doug whisked off in an ambulance.
Exhaustion hit Will suddenly, and all he wanted to do was find a bed and sleep, but he shook off his tiredness. He had a story to write.
Pulling a notebook and pencil out of his pocket, he wandered the dock, talking to soldiers, sailors, relief workers and medical staff. He lost track of time completely, and it was only when his book was filled up that he thought about making his way back to London.
The journey back was just a haze. Will remembered being on a train crowded with soldiers, but not much else. Almost as if he was in a dream, he walked through the doors of his newspaper and into the newsroom, making straight for his desk.
‘Will!’ The chief rushed up to him. ‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘Dunkirk,’ he muttered, pulling the typewriter towards him and rolling in a sheet of paper.
‘You’ve got blood all over you. Are you hurt?’
He shook his head. ‘It isn’t mine.’
‘Good.’ The chief studied the boy typing away like mad. He was dirty, with lines of fatigue around his eyes, and without a shirt under his jacket.
Ted called Charlie over to him, and spoke quietly. ‘Get him tea and sandwiches, and then as soon as he’s finished, clean him up and take him home. He’s been gone for three days and I don’t want his family to see him in this state.’
Then the chief turned, faced the room and shouted, ‘Hold the front page!’
Chapter Eight
The last convoy had been a nightmare, and Bob didn’t think he would ever be able to forget the horror of ships exploding as the torpedoes hit them. He drew in a deep breath as the scenes flashed through his mind in vivid colour. And when that tanker had gone up in flames … well, it was just as if all hell had descended upon them. The merchant seamen were well aware of the danger, but they didn’t hesitate to go to sea time and time again, knowing that the cargoes they carried were vital to the survival of this country.
Hoisting his kitbag more firmly on his shoulder, Bob turned into his road, looking forward to a few days at home. Perhaps the peace and normality of being with family and friends would help. As he thought about this he realised that his perception of normal didn’t exist any more. France had fallen.
Bob reached his gate and stood there for a moment watching the evening sun highlight the flowers in the garden. Early June had brought forth a riot of colour. The back had been dug over to grow vegetables, as had just about every garden in the country, but his mother clung on to this small patch for a bit of beauty, she’d said, and she was right. He felt as if the blooms were welcoming him home.
He swore under his breath as his vision clouded. He was getting soft, and that was not going to help him get through this war. All he had to do was remember those poor devils in the burning sea, and that would cure him of mooning over a few flowers.
‘Are you going to stand there all night, Bob?’
Composing himself he looked up and smiled. ‘Just admiring the garden, Dad. It’s nice to see so much colour after looking at grey sea all the time.’
His father nodded, and Bob wondered how long he had been watching him at the gate.
‘Yes, it’s a picture, isn’t it? Come in now, you’re mother’s putting the kettle on and is anxious to see you.’
He walked to the door and his father took his kitbag from him, nearly dropping it when he felt the weight. ‘What on earth have you got in here?’
‘I’ve collected a few things on my travels.’
‘It feels like it.’ His father studied his son for a moment, and then smiled. ‘It’s good to have you home, Bob. Are you hungry?’
‘Ravenous!’
‘I told you he would be.’ His mother rushed out of the kitchen to hug him. ‘Oh, it’s wonderful to see you. How long have you got?’
‘Let him get in the door, Sal,’ John chided his wife. ‘Let’s have tea first, and then we can talk.’
They settled around the kitchen table with steaming cups of tea in front of them and a plate full of sandwiches. Bob downed his first cup of tea, hungrily finished two sandwiches, then took a deep breath of pleasure, ready to answer his mother’s question now. ‘I’ve got ten days while they carry out some work on the ship.’
‘Oh, that’s lovely.’ Then his mother frowned. ‘What kind of work?’
‘You know I can’t tell you that.’ He took a bite of another sandwich, and changed the subject. There was no way he was going to let either of them know how dangerous the last convoy had been. They had taken a chance and stopped to pick up survivors, which was something they shouldn’t have done, but they couldn’t leave the poor devils in the sea. The damage they had sustained had not been serious, but it was enough to give them this welcome break. ‘Tell me about Dunkirk.’
His father reached for newspapers piled on the dresser behind him. ‘You’ve got to see these. Start on the top and work your way through. They are all in order. Will has had the front page right through the evacuation.’
Bob began to read, the sandwiches forgotten in his eagerness to learn more about this disaster. He’d been at sea while this had been going on, and the information they had received had been sketchy at best. He was delighted to see his friend’s name on the reports. It looked as if Will was doing well.
By the time he was halfway through the papers, he stopped reading and glanced up, puzzled. ‘These sound like first-hand accounts – as if Will was actually at Dunkirk.’
‘He was!’ His mother’s expression was concerned. ‘He jumped on a boat going up the Thames and sailed over with the owner. He was gone for some time and we were all so worried, not knowing where he was. The newspaper said he was covering the evacuation, and that’s all they would say.’
‘He made two trips,’ his father continued the story, ‘but when the owner was injured and the boat damaged, they couldn’t go again. Will stayed at the dock to gather as much information as he could, then staggered, exhausted, in to the newsroom and wrote his story. When he finally arrived home he slept for twenty-four hours.’
A slow smile crossed Bob’s face. ‘That’s just like him. He was very disappointed when we all joined up and he couldn’t. He’s got a wonderful way with words, and it looks as if he’s found his rightful place in this war now. He’s really brought this whole thing to life.’
‘Yes,’ his father agreed. ‘This is what he was meant to do.’
‘Bob.’ His mother reached across and laid a hand on top of her son’s. ‘Would you have a talk with Will? He’s making plans of some kind, but he’s keeping quiet about it. He’s changed.’
‘We all have, Mum,’ he said gently.
‘I know.’ She squeezed his hand and smiled sadly. ‘I can see that in your eyes. But we’re sure Will’s up to something and he won’t talk about it. The fact that he’s become so secretive is making his mum and dad suspicious. He’ll talk to you, though.’
‘I’ll see what I can do, but you’re probably all imagining it. The forces rejected him, but Dunkirk has proved to him that he’s just as capable as anyone else. It must have boosted his confidence, that’s all.’
‘I expect you’re right,’ his father agreed. ‘Now, what do you want to do this evening, go to the pub?’
‘Not tonight, Dad. Do you mind? I’ll enjoy that tomorrow after I’ve had a good night’s sleep. I’ve been looking forward to sleeping in my own bed.’
‘I expect you have.
We’ll all get together and have a drink tomorrow.’
‘Your room’s just as you left it.’ His mother gathered up the empty dishes. ‘You have a nice rest.’
‘Thanks.’ Bob stood up, and when he lifted his kitbag he put it on the table. ‘I forgot. We stopped in New York and I’ve got a few presents for you.’
As he unpacked various tins of fruit and meats, packets of biscuits, and other strange luxuries, his mother gasped. ‘My goodness, Bob, I’ve never seen anything like it! Would you mind if I shared this with our friends?’
‘Do what you like with it, Mum.’ He was about to head for the stairs when the back door shot open and Will stood there, grinning with delight.
‘Mum saw you arrive. Oh, it’s good to see you, Bob.’
Tiredness vanished in a flash as Bob greeted his friend, and he dumped his bag on the floor. ‘You look good, Will. I hear you’ve had quite an adventure, and I want to hear all about it.’
John Walker stood up. ‘Why don’t you boys go into the front room? You’ll have a lot to talk about, and you’ll find some beer in the sideboard, Bob.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
Bob studied his friend as they made themselves comfortable. His mother was right. The change in Will was obvious. There was something different about him, though it was hard to fathom just what it was.
‘How long are you home for?’ Will asked.
‘Ten days, while they do some work on the ship.’
‘That’s great!’ Then Will’s expression sobered as he noticed the lines of strain around his friend’s eyes. ‘Rough trip?’
‘Not as rough as they’re going to get now France has fallen. The U-boats won’t have so far to go to get to us now.’ Bob sat back and quickly changed the subject. ‘Do you know where Jim is?’
‘He’s safe. He managed to get out of Norway just before the Germans invaded.’
‘That’s a relief. I was worried about him. How’s Becky?’
Will grinned. ‘She’s fine. The army was daft enough to teach her to drive a truck.’
Bob laughed. ‘That I would like to see.’ Then, satisfied that his friends were all right, he said, ‘Tell me about the evacuation of Dunkirk.’
The Uncertain Years Page 6
