by Rosie Harris
A feeling of panic welled up inside him as once more he scanned the upturned faces on the quayside, wondering if he could pick her out from the crowd. Maybe if he made one last appeal, now that he was on the point of departure, she would listen to reason.
As he edged along the deck, peering over the rail, it seemed the crowds below were becoming even thicker, and realising how futile it was to try and spot them he turned away and went below deck to find out if anyone else from his own Company was on board.
The summons back to duty, coming as it did in the middle of his leave, left him in something of a quandary. When he reported to HQ he found that those in his Platoon not on leave had already set out for the Falklands, some on the Invincible, others on the Hermes. Gary Collins, his Platoon Sergeant, who had started his leave when he did, had not even been located and Russell wondered if he would make the Canberra before she sailed.
The huge liner was packed to capacity with over three thousand personnel aboard. Flight decks for helicopters, and fittings for refuelling at sea, had been hastily added and Russell wondered what conditions were going to be like once they sailed. Since it was an eight thousand mile journey, it was imperative that drills and exercises were maintained right up to the moment of landing if they were to be in peak physical condition for whatever awaited them.
After just one day at sea, Russell knew to his dismay that he was not a ‘born sailor’. The iron grey swell, with a sky to match, added to his discomfort.
‘You need fresh air,’ someone told him. ‘Go up on deck for an hour.’
The activity up there certainly did take his mind off his own physical discomforts. Sea King helicopters, looking like enormous buzzing hornets, were landing on the forward flight deck every few minutes bringing or collecting stores and mail. The huge loaded nets, which they lowered in by winch, swung precariously as they were caught and twisted by strong cross-winds.
By the end of the first week, however, not only were they into calmer waters and the cold dull days forgotten, but a working routine had been established. Physical fitness became the cult and exercises of some kind or another seemed to occupy almost every waking hour.
Whenever he had any free time, however, Russell usually joined fellow officers in the Crow’s Nest bar. He was there, playing one of the interminable games of Scrabble, when the cry went up that someone had sighted land.
‘It can’t possibly be the Falklands but it could be Freetown,’ Russell commented as he joined in the rush to the fo’c’sle which provided a splendid view out over the ship’s bows.
‘It is quite unbelievable, like a floating market!’ he exclaimed, as fascinated he watched the tiny bumboats circling the liner and offering their wares.
‘Does anyone want any skins or ornaments to send home as souvenirs?’ someone called out.
‘Yes! if we can go ashore for them,’ another voice replied.
But they were not allowed ashore. Land remained temptingly in the distance. Russell remained at his vantage point in the Crow’s Nest, watching a second flight deck for helicopters being installed. Before they sailed again, the interlaced scaffolding had been extended so much that it infiltrated the Crow’s Nest, spoiling even that pleasant retreat. He was glad when they once again put to sea.
When news came through that Hermes was less than 3,000 miles from the Falklands then, like many of the others, he began to fret in case all the action was over before they reached their destination. And this feeling became even more acute when the Canberra dropped anchor off Ascension island and no one seemed to know just how long they would remain there.
Looking out at the enormous heap of rocks, with their backdrop of red volcanic dust, Russell found himself longing for Somerset where the fields would now be yellow with buttercups. Or even the leafy squares around his Mayfair flat where at night, after the rush-hour traffic abated, the air would be sweet with lilac.
Although training and discipline, physical exercise and practised landings still took up the greater part of the day, Russell sensed that everyone was as restless as he was. Top brass, closeted in tiny cabins that had been turned into strategic command posts, argued and plotted over large scale maps to try and decide the best landing tactics to employ when once they reached the Falklands. The delay was made all the more galling because they knew that the Argentinians had landed and were already well established.
‘Don’t worry, your turn will come soon enough!’
Russell looked up quickly. He had been enviously watching as a small detachment of tanks, manned by the Blues and Royals, was being put ashore for practice. Now his interest shifted to the party of newcomers who arrived on board headed by Lt-Col ‘H’ Jones, commanding officer of 2nd Paras. It was one of his accompanying officers, Tony Rice, who had spoken. He grinned encouragingly at Russell as he and his fellow officer, Alan Coulson, followed ‘H’ Jones below deck.
Russell saw that also in the party was Major Mike Norman who, or so rumour had it, had actually been in the Falklands only four days before they had been invaded. The arrivals and departures in the Canberra were matched by a parade of ships coming in to the anchorage at Ascension and then leaving for the south.
When the Canberra finally sailed, under cover of darkness to avoid underwater attack, Russell breathed a sigh of relief. News had already reached them that Port Stanley had been attacked, and that the Argentinian ship, the General Belgrano, had been torpedoed and sunk, and he was impatient to be there and actively doing something.
Within days, the sea and air bombardment of the Falklands had increased and HMS Sheffield, one of the British destroyers, had been sunk by Exocet missiles. Lt-Col ‘H’ Jones’ battalion arrived in the Norland and he was transferred to it. The Canberra, too, was once more heading straight for the Falklands and all talk was centred on how, when and where the landings would take place.
No matter how much speculation went on, there were still a great many nautical miles to cover, and nothing but a great expanse of sea to stare out at so, in an effort to overcome the boredom that threatened to dishearten the men on board, a Sports Day was organised. The chief event, the 10,000 metres, entailed running twenty-four times round the promenade deck. This exhausting marathon, to everyone’s amazement and amusement, was won by the Canberra’s leading laundry hand.
Tension grew as the daily lectures included not only how to land but how to survive afterwards. These covered gruesome details such as killing, and skinning rabbits, sheep and cattle, as well as how to capture, kill and use the flesh of penguins for soups, and stew.
Gloom and depression followed as the Canberra entered rougher waters and was caught up in a major storm but Russell hardly noticed the discomfort. He had been told that he was to rejoin his own Company which had already landed.
As soon as they entered San Carlos Water, he was transferred to the Norland, which served as a ferry. Conditions on board were even more cramped than they had been on the Canberra but even that couldn’t dampen Russell’s good spirits. ‘H’ Jones and his officers were already on board and ‘H’ was the decision maker.
To Russell, of even greater importance was finding Gary Collins, his Platoon Sergeant, also on board. Their reunion was like that of old friends. One of the first questions Russell put to him was whether he had any news of Lucy.
‘Lucy has never written a letter to me in her life,’ Gary laughed. ‘I shouldn’t worry about her, she is well able to take care of herself.’
‘I am not so sure,’ Russell told him. ‘Lucy is a country girl and living in London on her own, she could run into all sorts of problems.’
‘She can always turn to Ruth if she needs help.’
‘Except that I have warned her that she must not visit her sister.’ Russell paused, embarrassed at the way the conversation was going. ‘Damn it all, you know what the situation is!’ he exclaimed exasperatedly.
‘I still think she would go to Ruth … or to my wife, Sheila, if she needed any help,’ Gary answered, his blue eyes n
arrowing.
‘Yes, you are probably right,’ Russell agreed heavily. ‘I wish I knew whether she was still in London or not. My parents asked her to stay with them when they were at the quayside in Southampton. She said something about considering it and perhaps going there later.’
‘Well, there you are. Stop worrying. There are plenty of people she can turn to. She doesn’t have to stay on in London on her own if she feels nervous or lonely. When the mail gets here there will be a bundle of letters from her and you will find you have been uptight about nothing after all. Once we land and the fighting starts you won’t have time to worry about anything or anybody except yourself.’
‘Yes, I suppose you could be right,’ Russell admitted reluctantly. He knew Gary Collins was talking sense and that it was futile to worry about Lucy.
‘As soon as I heard that you would be joining us I made it my business to acquire the right kit and equipment for you, sir,’ Gary told him, dragging his thoughts back to the present. ‘It includes a full stock of Field Rations since I didn’t think those would be available on the Canberra for general issue,’ he added with a knowing grin.
‘I see.’
‘And I’ve even managed to get you some puttees.’
‘Really!’ Russell looked at him in bewilderment. ‘What do I need those for, Sergeant?’
‘To make sure your trousers are held in tight to the ankle, not left flapping in the mud and water.’
On the 20th May, when orders to land finally came, it was a grey misty day with threatening rain clouds and the head-land was just an indiscernible mass. Then it was all happening and everyone was slithering down the short ladder into the landing craft that was bobbing alongside.
The Norland and Fearless seemed to loom over them in the dusk as they moved down San Carlos Water and Russell felt the stirrings of fear churn inside him. This’ was his first encounter with real warfare and he wondered if he was ready for it. The months of preparation, the field exercise and drills, bombarded his mind. He felt dazed, his brain an inferno of knowledge.
It was the kind of sensation he had experienced just before sitting an exam. A feeling of panic in case he was unable to sort out the jumble in his head and find the right answers in time. Now, it was coupled with a stark sense of danger that gripped him like an icy band.
He breathed deeply, determined to quieten the racing of his heart and the pounding of blood in his ears. He fought back the sour taste in his throat though his mind still swam with ugly visions.
Then the ramp was down and everyone, men and officers alike, scrambling and stumbling, wading through the shallows and floundering over the soft, peaty soil towards land.
As he breathed in the salty air, Russell’s nerves steadied, the frenzy inside his head calmed. He quickened his step as the entire body of men pushed forward towards a huddle of small houses. He felt alert, aware of every sound around him, and ready for action.
Chapter 27
As Lucy left London’s busy grey streets behind her and headed west on the motorway, her mood lightened.
Once she crossed the county border into Somerset, she wound down the window and let the warm April sunshine stream into the car. The air smelled crisp and refreshing and the hedgerows glittered with celandines, shining like bright new pennies amongst the sharp spikes of green grass. In the fields on either side of the road, young lambs frisked alongside their mothers, and cattle newly turned out into the lush fields grazed contentedly.
Spring at its best, she thought, as she sped through the rolling sunlit countryside and Russell was missing it all. It would be high summer, at the earliest, before he returned home. By then the headgerows would be pink and white with red campions and cow parsley, the lambs would be full grown and the corn ripening.
She still couldn’t understand why she had found living on her own in London so desperately lonely. She had been looking forward to her freedom and the chance to shop whenever she wanted to, entertain her own friends and even visit Ruth without the fear that someone might see her and report the fact to Russell. Yet she had done none of these things.
Perhaps I really am a country-girl at heart, she sighed. It had certainly made things worse when she had phoned home to her mother and discovered that Ruth and her two girls were staying there.
‘The weather here is glorious,’ Ruth enthused when she came to the phone. ‘Anna and Sally are thoroughly enjoying themselves. We’ve been to Furze Copse today picking daffodils. I’ve never seen such a carpet of yellow, it’s an absolute picture. There are primroses and violets there as well, if you know where to look for them.’
‘I expected to see you at Southampton when I went to see Russell off,’ Lucy said plaintively. ‘I was sure you would be there since the girls are on holiday from school.’
‘Hugh left on the Invincible,’ Ruth told her. ‘We did go to wave him off. The girls were thrilled skinny when they caught sight of Prince Andrew. He really is rather gorgeous. I think they were more impressed because he was going to the Falklands than by the fact their dad was going there.’
Neither her mother nor Ruth had suggested she could join them, probably because she couldn’t bring herself to admit how lonely she was on her own in London. Instead, she had let them think she was enjoying herself and full of plans on how she was going to spend her time while Russell was away.
So she stayed on at the flat, becoming more and more despondent. Although she had been on her own there at night, when Russell was on duty, the fact that there was no possibility of him being back for weeks, or even months, seemed to cast an air of gloom over the place.
She lost all interest in the decorating schemes she had planned. Without Russell’s opinion she found it impossible to make up her mind about colours or anything else. She had no real enthusiasm even for shopping sprees at Heals or Harrods; they suddenly seemed quite purposeless.
By the middle of the week she felt suicidal. She couldn’t even be bothered cooking but lived off snacks and coffee, piling the dirty dishes into the sink afterwards. Sheila Collins’ surprise visit had made her realise just how sluttish she had become which was why, as soon as Sheila had gone home, she had phoned Russell’s parents to ask if she could visit them.
Walford Grange was basking in the mid-afternoon sunshine when she arrived. She found Kate pottering in the garden, planting out geraniums in the massive stone urns that flanked the patio.
‘You’ve arrived at just the right moment to make me stop for a break,’ Kate greeted her. ‘The trouble is, I get so involved out there I forget the time and even though I’m dying for a cup of tea and a rest I refuse to give in.’ She smiled as she peeled off her gardening gloves.
Relaxed in wicker chairs on the terrace, drinking tea, nibbling biscuits and making small talk, neither woman mentioned the person who was uppermost in their minds.
They sat there until the Colonel rode up on an enormous black gelding, both horse and rider steaming after an energetic ride. He held it on a tight rein while he greeted Lucy enthusiastically, pulling at the ends of his moustache, his green eyes bright with obvious pleasure.
When he moved off towards the stables, Kate went to put away her gardening tools and Lucy went out to her car to collect her cases.
‘I’m so pleased you managed to get here early,’ Kate told her when she came back into the house. ‘We’ve friends coming for dinner.’
Lucy’s heart lifted. She had made the right decision. This was going to be much better than staying in the flat on her own. Perhaps later, when she tired of the country, she could persuade Kate to come back to London with her for a shopping spree. She would keep it in mind. For the moment, though, she intended to enjoy whatever hospitality her in-laws had to offer.
The dinner party was a splendid affair. Kate had invited nine other people and Lucy found herself sitting between her father-in-law and Carlile Randell.
Carlile’s undisguised delight at seeing her again gave an added zest to the evening for Lucy and her scintil
lating talk kept both men entranced. The only time she felt out of her element was when they talked about horses and then she kept her eyes demurely fixed on her plate.
‘How long are you staying down here this time, Lucy?’ Carlile asked at the end of a lengthy discussion comparing the merits of his horses with those the Colonel owned.
Lucy gave a tiny shrug of her bare shoulders as she looked questioningly at the Colonel.
‘Lucy can stay with us just as long as she likes,’ he said heartily, patting her hand affectionately. ‘Why do you ask, Carlile. Had you something special in mind?’
‘Actually, I had two things in mind,’ Carlile said, his eyes gleaming mysteriously.
‘You are trying to tease me,’ Lucy pouted, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
‘Come on, come on,’ the Colonel boomed. ‘I am as curious as she is.’
‘Well, there is a race meeting next week at Wincanton and I wondered if Lucy might like to attend. Secondly, if she is staying down here for a while then it might be a good opportunity for her to learn to ride.’
‘Hmm! I see! And what do you have to say to those suggestions, Lucy?’ the Colonel asked with a twinkle in his green eyes.
‘Well,’ Lucy gave a little pout, ‘yes, to the first offer, but I’m not sure about the second.’
‘Hmm!’ The Colonel looked at her appraisingly. ‘It would be a pleasant surprise for Russell to come back and find you were as accomplished on horseback as you are in every other way,’ he remarked thoughtfully.
‘I’m not sure I ever would be,’ Lucy said in a crestfallen little voice, fluttering her lashes as she looked from one to the other.
‘Nonsense!’ boomed the Colonel. ‘Give it a try.’
