The Leading Hand leaned over the side, a big grin on his face, “If you lads would come back on the deck we have made alternative arrangements for you.” He pulled me aboard and as I stood on the deck he pointed behind him, “’H.M.S. Cleveland’, a Hunt class destroyer!”
I saw the sleek shape of the destroyer as it raced towards us. This was truly combined operations; the air force and navy had been involved as well as us and I was thankful that the young lieutenant had managed to contact base.
Chapter 7
A scrambling net was rigged over the side of the destroyer and we clambered on board. The injured ratings were also transferred to the destroyer’s sick bay. While the tow line was being attached we were taken to the officers’ mess. Maurice was whisked away to the sick bay. I saw that Polly had wiped away the blood from his head. He would not want to be taken to a hospital. He was a commando. A bump on the head was nothing. Sub Lieutenant Jennings and two ratings wrapped blankets around us while the mess orderly poured us tots of rum.
Lieutenant Marsden drank the rum gratefully, “Thanks Sub, you arrived in the nick of time.”
“Yes it looked a little hairy. The trawler was lucky with its first hit. I am afraid the captain will have to take it easy going back. We don’t want to lose the 'Sunfish' on the last leg. You chaps settle down here.” He grinned, “On the QT we heard that everyone is pleased with your success. I envy you. Life on the 'Cleveland' is dull by comparison.”
Ken said, “Aye sir but considerably safer.”
When we were alone I said, “That was the most frightening experience of my life. I wouldn’t want to do that any time soon.”
Even Lieutenant Marsden had been shaken by the experience. “You are right, Tom. I know submariners get extra pay but they earn every penny of it.”
The slow tow meant we reached Southampton well after dark. Intelligence officers waited for Maurice but he insisted on shaking us all by the hand. “But for you four commandos I would be a dead man. I owe my life to you and I will always be grateful.”
He was spirited away and we never saw him again. After the war I discovered that the Channel Island resistance had suffered many casualties. I was just happy that we had saved at least one. Lieutenant Conklin was one of the last to leave the submarine. Lieutenant Marsden strode over to him. “Thanks awfully for what you did. We are grateful that you got us back safely.”
He grinned, “We were delighted to be of service. It was a little exciting wasn’t it? If we hadn’t had so many batteries damaged we might have escaped them without sending for help. Still we got back a little quicker. There is nothing like a Hunt class destroyer to put the willies up Jerry. Good luck to you chaps. I’ll have to run. We need to find out where they can repair the old girl.”
We might have hoped that Intelligence would have provided a lorry for us but they had their prize and we were forgotten. We went to the officer commanding the docks. Like us he was surprised that we had been ignored. “I have no vehicles available until tomorrow. You’ll have to spend the night here.”
I did not relish the prospect of a night in Southampton. The air raids there were legendary. “Sir, if you give us four chits we can take the train back to Falmouth.”
“Are you certain?” He looked at the Lieutenant who nodded. “Very well then. Sergeant have four railway warrants made out for these chaps eh?”
Ken looked at Polly’s head as we headed west on the Great Western train. We were all tired and dirty. I know that I felt drained. Normally, after a mission I was buzzing but the voyage on the 'Sunfish' had been traumatic. We travelled in silence; each of us lost in his own thoughts. The rhythm of the carriage meant I was soon asleep. Ken woke me up, “Next stop Falmouth, Sarge.”
The Lieutenant and Poulson were still asleep. “We’ll give them another ten minutes.” He lit a cigarette. “You and Polly did well, Ken.”
He shook his head, “I reckon I need to learn German. You have used it a couple of times. If you hadn’t discovered that the Gestapo were on their way we might have been caught with our trousers down. Their arrival must have triggered the booby traps.”
“I think you are right.”
“Anyway, Sarge, how about starting those German lessons again?”
When I had been corporal Daddy Grant had had me teach the lads a few phrases in French and German. Since I had been promoted I had been too preoccupied. “A good idea and I should have thought of this myself. We’ll start today.”
We shook the other two awake as we hissed into Falmouth. As we left the station the Lieutenant said, “You chaps get off to your digs. My motor is at my billet. I will pop up to the camp and report to the Major. I daresay they will be worried.”
“Right sir.”
Mrs Bailey was using a stone on the step. She saw the dressing on Polly’s head and her hand went to her mouth, “Whatever has happened? The other lads said you were off somewhere.” She put a maternal hand on Polly’s face. “I have hot water on. You lads have a bath; you smell of oil and I don’t know what. If you leave your uniforms out then I will wash them.” She shooed us inside. Mrs Bailey was a force of nature.
I piled my clothes next to my bed and went to take my bath. One of the advantages of digs over a barracks was that we could personalise it more. Mum had given me a bath robe for Christmas and it was a luxury. Had I worn it in a barracks my life would have been a misery but here I could indulge myself. It was only when I came back from my bath, smelling clean and freshly shaven that I realised what Mrs Bailey had meant. My clothes smelled of oil, mildew, sea water and blood. I was not surprised that we had had a compartment all to ourselves on the train. We stank!
Mrs Bailey kept a neat and tidy little bed and breakfast. Her linen was crisp and white. She had brought out her best china for the three of us. She put the pot of tea on the table. “I baked some scones. There’s not much sugar in them but the jam is bramble from before the war. That will sweeten them up.”
“Thanks Mrs B.”
She smiled at Polly, “You are too young to be fighting in this war!”
She didn’t know that Polly had slit a man’s throat less than two days earlier. He might have had a baby face but he was a killer. “My mum uses carrots to sweeten cakes Mrs Bailey.”
“Does she Sergeant Harsker? I have never tried that but it sounds like a good idea. And they will help you lads see better in the dark. I have some growing. I will try to get a recipe for that.”
I smiled for the reference to carrots making it easier to see in the dark was good Government propaganda. To deceive the Germans about aerial radar the story had been spread that night fighter pilots were fed carrots. I knew this because Dad had told me of the radar. I didn’t doubt that carrots were good for you but I doubted they improved night vision.
After a mission there is nothing like a night in a comfortable bed with clean, crisp linen. I slept like a baby but I was up early. I rose before Mrs Bailey. I made a pot of tea and lit the fire. I had my first cup and toasted some bread. I had just finished my second cup when Mrs Bailey came down in her dressing gown.
“Sergeant Harsker, if you had said that you wanted to be up early I would have had breakfast ready for you.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs Bailey, it was no problem and it will save you the trouble of lighting the fire.” I poured her a cup of tea.
As she stirred in the half a teaspoon of sugar she took she said, “Your boys were worried about you. They said you were off somewhere dangerous.” She held up her hand, “They didn’t tell me where but I knew it was somewhere dangerous. They are good boys, Sergeant,“ her eyes began to well up with tears, “you will look after them won’t you? I know they think the world of you and would do anything for you but they deserve to have families, children. They should survive this horrible war. Too many have died already.”
“Don’t worry Mrs Bailey. I intend to see that all of them survive. This country needs young men like them.”
She smiled, “Good.”
I ran through the dark streets towards the camp. It was not yet dawn and the streets were empty save for the milkmen and their horse and carts. I needed the run. When I led the men I had to be fitter than they were. It came with the stripes. The Lieutenant could watch us but I had to lead when we trained. I guessed that we would be training now for a while. We had had two missions in quick succession. I knew that we were too valuable to be wasted. We had proved ourselves as a Troop. When we were next used it would be something big. We would have to be ready.
I was half way up the hill when I overtook Jack Johnson who was marching to the camp. “You are up early Jack.”
“Could say the same about you.”
“You know what it is like after a mission. You are on edge.”
“Aye, we heard you had had a little trip. France?”
“Nah, Channel Islands again. We went in by submarine and you can keep those steel coffins for me. How is your section going?”
“The new replacements are good lads. It would be perfect except for that big bugger, Waller.”
“Still causing trouble?”
He nodded, “But I am going to break him. You know me Tom. I don’t do Kings regulations but I will with this one. If he wants to be a smart arse and a barrack room lawyer then I will show him. It is why I am going in early I want to have a chat with Reg Deane about him.”
“I thought he was running my section.”
“Oh he is but he still meets with Horace and me before breakfast. The Major thinks this is his Troop, Troop Sergeant Major Dean knows it is his.”
“Anything on the horizon then?”
“The Major wants us practising demolition charges. He has found an old tin mine not far away. It is played out and the owner is an old spinster. Her fiancé died in the Great War and she wants to do her bit. She says we can blow it all up if we like.”
“Excellent. Real buildings are always better than ones the engineers build for us.”
“And even better it is ten miles away so we will get a twenty mile run in each day.”
When we reached the camp Reg Dean was in the office with Horace and they were smoking. The Troop Sergeant Major grinned when he saw me, “The wanderer returns. I thought you might have been away longer.”
I shook my head, “We had just one night over there and then another on the sub.”
They all leaned forward, their interest aroused, “How was it?”
“The worst experience of my life, Horace. We were depth charged. You feel bloody helpless lying on the bottom of the sea expecting to be drowned or blown up at any minute.”
Reg nodded, “I can see that. Did you get the job done?”
He was careful not to ask me what the job was. If the Major had wanted them to know he would have told them. “We did and we all got back safely. Poulson banged his head but that was on the sub.”
“Now you are back we can start the training at the mine.”
Just then Gordy walked in. He shook his head, “I can see that the new boy will have to get up a little earlier.” He held his hand out to me. “Good to see you back, Tom.”
“And it is a relief to be back.” He cocked his head quizzically. “I was just telling the lads that a submarine is now my idea of hell!”
As we were all there Troop Sergeant Major Dean outlined the Major’s plans for us. “This will take us three months. If we are given jobs in the middle then so be it but Major Foster seems to think that the other Troops will be blooded. He wants us to be experts at climbing and blowing up buildings.”
Jack Johnson nodded, “Good, that will give us a chance to knock some of these new lads into shape.”
“You mean Waller?”
“I do.”
The Sergeant Major tapped a manila envelope, “It is easy enough to ship him out. He is a bad ‘un.”
“I know Sarn’t Major but I would feel I had let the commandos down. I have never failed to turn anyone into a decent soldier yet.”
“Well we will watch your back. He is a nasty piece of work.”
When the Major came in he confirmed our orders. We would begin the next morning. Our sections had to be at the camp for seven. He wanted us to take under two hours to get to the mine. Eventually we would have it in an hour and a half. Our aim was to make our Troop the fittest and the best trained in the service. When the others left he gestured for me to join him in his office.
“Well done, Tom. Lieutenant Marsden told me what you did over there. That was smart thinking. He’s recommended you for officer training.”
I shook my head, “I am sorry, sir, but that would be three months of my life and the war wasted. I want to keep fighting Jerry. The chap we rescued showed me that what we do is important.”
“The war will still go on without you, Tom. You know that.”
“Of course I do and I would be lying if I said I didn’t want more responsibility but I am happy at the moment. Lieutenant Marsden is a good officer.” When I said it I was thinking of Captain Grenville. If he were my direct superior then I might change my mind. So long as I had Lieutenant Marsden as an intermediary then I was satisfied.
“Very well. You should know that his report cites all three of you for a medal.”
“In which case he should get one too sir. He did as much as we did.”
He gave me a shrewd look, ”Perhaps.”
We spent the day preparing the men. We went to Quartermaster Daddy Grant to gather our ropes and demolition charges. As we would not be needing them for some time we stored our Thompsons and Colts in the armoury. It was safer that way. We always worried when we carried in England that they might fall into the wrong hands. Not everyone in England was fighting the same war. There were Irish Nationalists who would love to get their hands on two automatic weapons and the criminals who had managed to avoid conscription. They still ran their nefarious operations and sold things on the black market. It annoyed me to think that criminals were benefitting from the war supplying those with too much money the things that they couldn't get.
The four sections were all on parade at 0700 hours. All, that is, except for Private Waller who was late. Jack was fuming. He tore a strip off him in front of everyone. I saw the Troop Sergeant Major nodding his approval. “And, Private Waller, you are on jankers for the next week! When we get to the mines you are going to dig the latrines for the Troop.”
The rest of his section and those he had bullied looked especially pleased.
We set off with Major Foster setting the pace. He was a fit man and we used the light infantry march. We alternated quick time with double time. I smiled as I saw that Captain Grenville was struggling to keep up. He was not as fit as any of the rest of us. The Guards prepared you for ceremonial; the commandos prepared you for war.
The mine was on a remote hillside. There were plenty of buildings and broken machinery. It looked perfect. We had a variety of things and materials to blow up. It was important that we knew how much explosive to use. The winding gear was still in place above one of the shafts. There were other shafts which had been boarded over. It looked perfect. We spent the first day preparing the site. Each night four men under the command of a corporal would spend the night on guard. It meant we could leave the explosives and equipment there. Private Waller spent the day digging latrines. I saw the dirty looks he threw Jack Johnson’s way. It did not bother the most experienced sergeant in the Troop.
Horace’s corporal drew the first night shift. We had tents for them and they seemed quite happy to be there. As we doubled back to the camp Waller kept grumbling. Eventually Jack and Troop Sergeant Major Dean pulled him from the column and took him to one side. We continued back.
When Jack and Troop Sergeant Major Dean arrived they stood in front of the giant. Troop Sergeant Major Dean said, “Tomorrow, Waller, you will report here, to me, at 0630 hours. Understood?”
“Yes Troop Sergeant Major!” Waller saluted and then stormed off back to his billet in the town.
Major Foster joined the se
rgeants and Lieutenant Marsden. Captain Grenville was conspicuous by his absence. We had finished for the day and so there was no reason why he should have stayed but the rest of us were a team. It seemed we had two men in the Troop who stood out like sore thumbs. One was an officer and one a private. They were both problems, in their own ways.
“What do you reckon about Waller, Sarn’t Major?”
“Sorry sir; I don’t like to give up but he is a lost cause. You can see it in his eyes. He doesn’t like authority and he is a thug.” He shook his head. “If he wore a black Waffen SS uniform then it would make sense. He would fit right in with that lot.”
Lieutenant Marsden said, “I say, Sarn’t Major, that is a little strong.”
“It might be, sir, but it is true.”
“Right, I will get his transfer arranged tomorrow.”
Jack shuffled uncomfortably in his seat and said, “Sir, can you give me a week?”
“Are you sure? He is a bad apple. You don’t want him spoiling the others do you?”
“That’s the point sir; I think the other lads are good lads. Between us we might show him the error of his ways.”
The Major nodded, “Today is Monday. You have until Thursday night. If the Troop Sergeant Major is not happy by then he goes.”
“Right sir. Leave it with me.”
After we had finished at the camp I left with Jack and Horace to go back to town. “I think Reg and the Major are right, Jack. How can you change him?”
“You gave me the idea this morning Tom.”
“Did I? How?”
“When we met up and walked to the camp. We just chatted like mates didn’t we?”
“We are mates.”
“I know. Well, tomorrow I will wait close to Waller’s digs and just chat to him while we walk to the camp. I’ll find out what football team he likes; the kind of music and comedians he favours. I have tried the hard man approach and it doesn’t work. I’ll try the matey one. Instead of picking on him like he thinks I do, I will make him feel special eh?” He shrugged. “If it doesn’t work then I have failed.”
Behind Enemy Lines Page 8
