Tony frowned. "Won't it be better to stick with the Bren if the Sten has all these problems?"
Jim shook his head.
"Of course it has its drawbacks, but the advantages far outweigh those. It’s not much good over distances of more than a few yards, but for close range work this machine is deadly. It’s also suited to our type of work, because mud and water do it little harm." He smiled broadly. "I’ll be taking one with me next week. Do you want to try it now?"
Tony nodded and the two men wrapped themselves against the icy cold before venturing out. Jim led the way to a sandbagged area, where he hung a straw dummy from a meat hook. The dummy was dressed in German uniform, and swung listlessly in the wind. Tony held the new gun at hip level, carefully drawing the bolt, then pulling the trigger. The rat-a-tat-tat of the magazine discharging and the satisfying thump of bullets hitting the target raised his adrenalin. After one short burst he stopped firing and looked at the dummy. There was a line of holes across its chest from which straw was gently falling. He realised that, if it had been a man, he would have been almost cut in two. Tony turned to Jim with a broad smile.
"You're right! That's just the kind of weapon we need in France. Book one out for me!"
So the weeks passed with Tony instructing new agents in the need for surprise, in swift and sudden attacks at the enemy’s weak points, in knowing the line of retreat before attacking. He emphasised the need for all agents to know their area well, and to have reliable guides, all of which he knew were essential from his own experience. The students looked up to him. He was one of the few men who had already seen action behind enemy lines and they hung on to his every word, knowing that what he told them could save their lives. As Tony taught them tradecraft and how to deal with enemy controls, he found himself warming to the task. A year before, he had been sitting where they now sat, but the information he had received from the instructors lacked the bite of experience and was, in some areas, speculation. Now he could tell them what it was really like to work behind enemy lines, and was able to channel their eagerness and temper it with caution.
Early in February Jim left Beaulieu, heading for the south coast of England and a plane to France. Tony watched him go with mixed feelings. Since he met Jim during the disorganised retreat to Dunkirk, they had become close friends. Tony had never felt closer to another man, except David. As he said goodbye, he was fearful for his friend’s safety, yet envied him the opportunities and experiences which awaited him across the narrow expanse of the English Channel. Despite the dangers, Tony longed to be out in France again. He was determined it would not be long before he followed Jim back into enemy territory.
72
The war in North Africa was fluctuating back and forth. Early in January, the British forces were back in Benghazi after a German retreat, but Rommel counter-attacked, pushing them back to Gazala. The fighting had been fierce with many casualties on both sides, and some of these casualties eventually found their way back to Heronfield. It seemed strange to Sarah that Britain was at war with Germany, yet most of the injured she was seeing came from North Africa or the Far East. When war had first broken out she had expected most of the fighting to take place in Europe but the Germans now seemed to have almost complete control there, and there was little, if any fighting.
It was late one February afternoon when Sarah met a typical group of patients who had just arrived at the hospital and were settling in. Two of the patients had been assigned to her ward, and she bustled about cheerfully in an attempt to make them feel more at home.
“Hello, lads. How are you feeling?" Her concerned gaze met the eyes of a young man, hardly more than a boy. He smiled wearily in response.
"Glad to be back in Blighty, miss."
Sarah returned the smile of the slim form encased in bandages. "What happened to you?"
"Our tank took a direct hit and caught fire." The young man frowned as though reliving the experience. "It was like an oven in there, and we were all fighting to get out. Not all of us made it." His eyes clouded as he thought of his comrades who had burned to death then, with a shrug and a smile that looked old on his boyish face, he spoke again. "Still, now I know how a Christmas turkey feels!"
Sarah was moved by the young man’s attempt at humour, a defence against the horrors which must inhabit his mind. She straightened the bedclothes and took a quick look at his notes.
"Lieutenant George Scott." She smiled. “Well, Lieutenant, I hope your stay with us won't be too long. With a bit of luck, you'll be able to go home to your family soon."
"Are you trying to get rid of me already?"
Sarah smiled a sad smile as she gently patted his bandaged hand. "No, not at all. You're welcome to stay here as long as you like."
She turned to the other newcomer in the adjacent bed. "And who are you?"
"Lieutenant Graham Brown. I was luckier than my colleague there." He glanced across at Scott. "My tank was disabled. I was shot while trying to get from it to cover."
Sarah noticed how still and straight his legs were and looked at his notes, which hung from the end of the bed. A bullet had severed his spinal cord. He would never walk again. She frowned.
"You say you were lucky?"
Brown nodded. "Yes. Everyone who serves in a tank suffers from the same nightmare, to be caught in a burning tank and to be unable to get out. Any injury to me is better than the fear of burning in a tank."
Scott turned his head to look at Brown. There were some angry burns on his face and a small patch of his hair had been burned away, but his main injuries were to his arms and lower body.
"I'm glad I'm in the next bed to you. At least you know how I feel."
Brown nodded but said nothing, a strange companionship being forged in the silence of shared fears and experiences. Forcing a bright smile, Sarah moved towards the door.
"Right then. While you two get acquainted, I’ll go and get your tea."
The next few hours passed swiftly. Sarah brought them their food, propping Brown up so he could eat, then feeding Scott, whose hands were so badly burned that he could not feed himself. Dr. Millard appeared a little later to check over the new patients before Sarah settled them down for the night. She did not go off duty until midnight and so settled herself at the nurse’s station where she could hear if any of the patients in the four small wards along this part of the hallway needed her. A small lamp burned on the desk, and she made herself comfortable with a magazine and a hot cup of tea. All was quiet. The patients were asleep and there was nothing to hear save the odd snore or rustle of bedclothes as someone turned over.
She looked at her watch. It was 9-35 p.m.
The screaming began at 10-30. For a moment Sarah was frozen with shock, and then she rose to her feet and ran in the direction of the sound. The screaming was coming from her ward, and as she rushed in she was able to distinguish words amidst the screams.
"Get me out! I'm burning! I'm burning!"
Scott was flailing his bandaged arms wildly as though to beat back encroaching flames. Sweat stood out on his forehead and his face was a mask of terror, although his eyes were tightly closed in sleep. Sarah glanced quickly at the other patients in the room to see if they were all right. Their pale faces were staring at Scott in shock.
"It's all right. I'll look after him. You lie down and try to get back to sleep."
Sarah made her way to Scott’s bedside, and laid a cool hand on his brow. She was surprised to feel him shaking violently.
"Shhhh. It's all right. It's all right,” she whispered softly. Slowly Scott’s body relaxed a little, and his eyes opened.
"Are you an angel?"
Sarah forced a smile, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
"No, I'm a nurse. Don't you remember?"
"I was in my tank. I was burning up." His voice rose hysterically as he spoke. "I could feel my flesh melting when I touched the walls, they were so hot. The smoke was choking me. I couldn't see, and the smell…” He gagged as
though his nostrils were filled with the sickening aroma of burning flesh. "I could smell my friends as they burned. I heard the fat dripping from their bodies, sizzling on the hot floor. I was in hell!"
Sarah stroked his brow soothingly. "It was just a dream. You're safe now. You're in hospital in England. You're safe. It's all right."
The soothing monotony of the words calmed him at last. He gazed at Sarah with clear eyes that held the horror of pain and death.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "The dream was so real. I felt as though I was back in the tank. You can't know what it was like." His voice was little more than a whisper. "I felt my hands burning as I clawed at the hatch, I could see them blackening, but I had to go on. If I didn't get out, all of me would have burned up like that." He shuddered. "The screams. I'll never forget the screams of my friends, and I couldn't help them." Tears seeped out from under the closed eyelids. "I couldn't help them. Why did they die while I'm still alive? I should have gone back for them. I should be dead too."
As Sarah spoke softly to the young man, he slowly relaxed and eventually fell into a fitful sleep. Sarah rose and made her way thoughtfully back to her station. The doctors would be able to heal the physical injuries of the soldiers, but she suspected that there were mental scars from this war which would never be healed.
As the war dragged on Sarah’s duties increased. From being little more than a cleaner and cook during those first frantic weeks after Dunkirk, she had developed into a competent auxiliary. She was often entrusted with duties which should have been given only to trained nurses, but her skill and natural ability had been recognised and harnessed, so her days were now filled with a variety of tasks. Sarah loved the work Before the war she had not considered taking up a career. She had always thought she would marry and have children and that would be all. But now she knew her life would never be the same without the challenge of nursing. She was saddened by all the wounded men she saw, hating this war which caused so much death and destruction. Yet when it was over she would continue nursing, dedicating her life to serving others.
Scott’s burns were healing well, but the damage to his mind would take much longer to put right. As Sarah was massaging Brown’s useless legs one morning, he spoke to her about the young man in the next bed.
"Scott was lucky, you know. Once a tank goes up like that, the men have little chance to get out."
"Do others who have escaped react like him?" Sarah continued to knead the numb muscles as Brown nodded.
"Yes, the nightmares are common, but I think they fade as time goes by." He looked across at the empty bed; Scott was down in the burns treatment room. "From what he tells me, he’s getting more sleep now he’s back in England. His memories of here are from before the war and before the fire. That should help."
Sarah nodded. "What about you? How are you feeling?"
Brown shrugged. "All right I suppose. At least I don't suffer any pain."
"What did you do before the war?"
"I was a bank clerk," Brown smiled, "and I never had a beautiful woman massaging my legs then!"
Sarah smiled too as she began to knead the muscles of his calf. "I must say you’re taking all this remarkably well."
"What else can I do? That bullet did permanent damage. Not even the most skilled surgeon will be able to repair my spine, so I just have to get used to the idea that I’ll never walk again.” His eyes clouded a little. “That’s not to say that I won't miss playing rugby, or walking with a pretty girl on my arm. But at least I should be able to do my old job from a wheelchair. It will give me a link with my past, back to the days before this damned war spoiled everything." He met Sarah’s eyes. "Sorry, that's not quite the way to talk to a lady, is it?"
Sarah laughed. "Don't worry, I've heard much worse than that on the wards!" She straightened her back for a moment and stretched her tired arms. Brown grinned.
"I suppose I shall have to have my legs massaged for the rest of my life?"
Sarah nodded. "That's what the doctor says."
"Then how about coming home with me, and being my private nurse? You make such a good job of it!"
Sarah looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, then noticed his smile. She laughed gaily. "You shouldn't tease the nurses like that, you know. One day one of them just might accept!"
"Who said I was teasing?"
Sarah frowned, and it was Brown’s turn to laugh.”
"Don't worry, I have a gorgeous fiancée who’ll be more than willing to do that for me!"
Sarah smiled sadly. "Perhaps you're lucky after all. You have a future ahead of you with the woman you love. At least Hitler didn't spoil that for you. Now," Sarah was more matter of fact as she covered his legs, "I must be about my duties."
Brown watched her go with a puzzled frown.
73
Britain was not only suffering defeats in North Africa. In the Far East the situation gradually deteriorated during the first quarter of 1942. The empire hungry Japanese, keen to take advantage of European powers weakened by their war with Hitler, landed in Indonesia on 6th January. The Dutch fought bravely but could do little to halt the Japanese advance without the aid of the British, but this aid never came. On 8th February, the Japanese launched a massive attack against the British in Singapore. The fighting was fierce but the situation was hopeless, and the garrison fell on the 15th with eighty thousand British taken as prisoners of war. The Dutch continued to fight, but without reinforcements defeat was just a matter of time. Two months after the Japanese invaded, on 8th March, the Dutch surrendered Indonesia, and ninety-eight thousand prisoners of war were taken.
74
Tony returned to Heronfield on leave in early March. It was the first time he had seen Sarah for almost two months and he could not hide the smile of delight that lit his face when she met him in the orchard. The bare branches of the trees were swelling with buds, a promise of new life soon to break forth, and Sarah reached up to run a finger over the hidden leaves.
"I've always liked spring.” She smiled at Tony. "It's a sign of hope for the future, and we need all the encouragement we can get at the moment."
"What's wrong?" Tony frowned at Sarah. She seemed cheerful enough, but under her calm exterior he detected a deep sadness. "You seem a little depressed."
Sarah shrugged. "No more than anyone else." She sighed. "We were so full of hope at the end of last year. America came into the war and it only seemed a matter of time, maybe only a few months, before the war would be won. We could have peace at last. But things haven't got better, they've got worse. It was the loss of Singapore that brought it home to me. It’s still going to be a long time before we can defeat Germany and Japan." She gazed sadly at Tony. "I can hardly remember the times before this all started, and it now seems as though it will never end. How much longer can we go on like this?"
"As long as it takes." He took Sarah gently in his arms, glorying in the feel of her body pressed close to his. "Don't worry, Sarah. We'll win in the end."
Sarah pressed her cheek against his comforting shoulder. Since the Christmas dance, she had come to realise just how much a part of her life Tony had become. Her feelings for him had grown steadily over the months, and years, that she had known him. Life would be duller without Tony around. Sarah sighed deeply.
"I know we’ll win in the end; it's just that it seems to be taking so long."
"What you need is something to take your mind off the war for a while. Something to cheer you up."
Sarah extricated herself from his arms and looked up into his smiling face. "What do you suggest?"
"When's your next day off?"
"Friday."
"Good. I'll still be on leave then. Why don't we go out somewhere for the day and enjoy ourselves?"
Sarah smiled. "That sounds lovely. Where shall we go?"
Tony was thoughtful for a moment, watching the grey clouds scudding across the sky. Then he grinned. "How about Bath? Have you ever b
een there?"
Sarah shook her head.
"Good. Then we'll go there for the day. It's a beautiful place. I can guarantee that you won't be feeling depressed when we come home."
For Sarah the days until Friday seemed to drag by. She told herself it was because she would be seeing another city, somewhere other than Coventry or the small town of Marlborough which were the only places she had seen in her twenty three years. But deep down, she knew the excitement came from knowing she would be spending a whole day with Tony. Would he kiss her again? He had not done so since the dance on Christmas Eve, perhaps sensitive to her loss of Joe, but now she hoped he would. The very thought of his kiss sent shivers of excitement down her spine.
Friday morning dawned bright and clear, though chilly, and Sarah decided to wear trousers. They were becoming more fashionable now. Certain women, such as the Land Army girls, wore them during working hours, and other people were following suit. Sarah had not long had her trousers, and they had taken all of her coupons. She hoped Tony would approve. She finished getting ready as quickly as possible, and made her way down to the huge gateway at the entrance of the estate where she had arranged to meet Tony.
The little red sports car was already there with Tony waiting beside it. As he watched Sarah walking down the drive in brown trousers that showed off her figure to perfection, he smiled. She wore a brown jacket to match and underneath, visible at the neckline, a cream sweater which set off the outfit perfectly.
"You look lovely." He opened the door for her. He had never seen anyone looking quite so lovely, and he could hardly believe that he was lucky enough to be spending a whole day in her company. Sarah, divining nothing of his thoughts, slid into the car and pulled her collar up in an attempt to hide the blush which coloured her cheeks.
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