by Shirley Mann
The next morning, she was on duty early so crept out of the hut before the others were awake, grateful that she did not have to talk to anyone. She felt like a criminal, a murderess and yet she knew she had not done anything wrong.
The crew she had that morning were ones who were nearing the end of their training and had been on a night sortie, but it was a foggy morning and she had to help them as they struggled to navigate their way back. Lily furrowed her brow as she pressed the Morse key hard and concentrated to send the correct coordinates until they finally appeared through the clouds above the camp. More than one crew had been lost in fog only to crash into the sea and never be seen again so survival was a team effort and Lily was determined she was not going to lose any more young men.
At breakfast after the debrief, the crew joked and laughed with her, hiding their relief at having landed safely and Lily enjoyed being away from suspicion and actually managed to eat some egg and toast. She sipped at her tea and looked over the rim at the seven young boys in front of her. They would soon be going out on raids to retaliate for the new bombs that were exploding over England. She shook her head in despair. Would it ever end? she thought.
The rest of the day was so busy with the next crew that Lily had little time to think of anything, but later that evening, when she returned to the hut, the girls all went silent and started to frantically re-organise their kits ready for inspection. Lily tried to get on with sorting her own pile but finally the silence and meaningful looks across the room got the better of her and she swirled round in anger.
‘You can all stop talking about me. I know you’re doing it. I’ve done nothing wrong and that will be proved. You’re hypocrites anyway. You all hated Sergeant Horrocks so don’t pretend you didn’t.’
There was silence and then Hilda came across to Lily and put her arms around her.
Tense and surprised, Lily stood stock still for a moment and then buckled. Hilda caught her as she burst into tears.
‘There, there, lovey. Calm yourself. No one’s blaming you. We just know she hated you for some reason and everyone’s making the most of gossiping about something that isn’t war-related.’
Hilda looked crossly at the rest of the girls in the hut who had started to shuffle around guiltily.
It was true the ‘Horrocks Affair’, as it was becoming known, had excited the exhausted WAAFs and was a welcome relief from the daily grind of a long war and while none of them felt any real sadness at her death, the opportunity to speculate and gossip had been too tempting for them to resist.
A voice came from behind the stove in the middle. It was Marion.
‘All I can say is that I always liked Sergeant Horrocks. I found her to be a welcome change from the usual type of person you get in a place like this.’
At this, pillows, shoes and hairbrushes shot across the room and Marion had to duck to escape the volley of missiles that were being hurled her way.
Lily started to giggle through her tears and as the tension was released, the rest of the girls started to laugh too. Marion raised her chin and took up her book, sitting down with a thud on her bed in disgust.
The next day Lily received a letter from Alice.
23rd February, 1945
Dear Lily,
I do hope you’re all right. I had a visit from the police last night. They told me about Sergeant Horrocks. What a dreadful thing to happen. They asked me lots of questions about you and her and I told them how she had hated you from the beginning for no reason. They seemed to suggest they’d questioned you too. I hope they don’t think you had anything to do with it. I gave them Amy’s name but they already had it, and of course, you have the Princess with you your end but I bet she hasn’t been much help.
Things are busy here. I should think you’re having the same problems with the latest little vengeance packages from Germany, but I’m dying to see you – I have so much to tell you. My doctor, whose name is Arthur, has asked me to marry him and I have said yes! Oh Lily, I know you have a lot on your mind at the moment, but I’m so happy I had to share it with you. I want you to be my bridesmaid, will you? We are going to wait until the war is over – surely it can’t be long now – and then I am going to take him to meet my parents. I hope he doesn’t go off me when he sees how much mud we have on the farm; he seems to think I am very glam! He must be in love with me! Anyway, let me know what happens over this dreadful Horrocks business.
Love,
Alice
Lily hugged herself as she sat in the mess reading the letter. She felt such a thrill of excitement for her friend and not a little regret that while Alice had found such happiness, she had not heard from Danny since their disastrous meeting. She was off-duty for the afternoon but confined to camp so could only go for short walks around the perimeter. She decided some exercise would be good for her and she needed time to put her thoughts in order.
She strode alongside the fence with purpose, swinging her arms forward and back in time with her step. It did her good to have a steady rhythm and for the first time in several days, her beating heart started to quieten down.
‘LACW Mullins, report to the CO.’ A small WAAF from the admin office was calling to her from the control tower.
This is it, Lily thought, I will either be arrested for murder or this nightmare will be at an end.
Chapter 52
The traffic jam went back miles. They had been promised a triumphal entry into Berlin and now they were sitting waiting for the Russians to take the glory. As the long columns of Soviet armies had passed him, Danny had been surprised by the mix of modern tanks and Cossack cavalrymen who looked like remnants from medieval times. He had realised very quickly that although the West and the Russians were allies, they could have been from a different planet. The reality of how Hitler’s dream had turned into a nightmare for his own people was being slowly but relentlessly revealed. Gaunt, thin and suspicious of the liberators, the defeated Germans looked like a shrunken race and seemed to have no fight left in them. But then the Russians moved in and Danny watched in horror as some soldiers rampaged through the streets looking for alcohol and women. He watched them drag women out from the crowds and rape them on the fronts of their tanks. He was unable to interfere, unable to help. It seemed any woman was easy prey, be she a grandmother or a child and the drunken Russians did not fail to take the victors’ spoils. The perpetrators were like animals, he thought, then corrected himself, because no animal raped, beat up or abused its victim like the troops he was forced to watch. Danny and his fellow soldiers were powerless. They were supposed to be on the same side.
As they approached Berlin, the tank transporter approached a small copse. At the point where they turned a corner, two girls ran out from the scant cover of the trees and in front of Danny’s vehicle. He screeched to a halt, knowing there were only a few yards between him and the vehicle behind. The girls were so thin, he could see their ribs through their grubby dresses and he knew they were German.
His heart started to thump. The convoy was close to the designated Western barriers but there were still two Russian checkpoints to get through. It looked like the girls had been sleeping rough, trying to stay out of sight of the revenge-thirsty Russians. They were lucky to have got away without being attacked or even hanged by the roadside. He had already seen the mangled bodies of girls in once-pretty dresses hanging from trees, discarded like abandoned dolls at the side of the road, their legs bloodied and smeared. He leaned out of the window.
‘Please, you ’ave to ’elp us. Zey vill kill us.’
Danny had a split second to decide. He could leave them to their fate and let them join the piles of rags that were gradually being eaten by crows, or he could help them.
He opened the door, yanked at the rubber mat under the pedals to reveal a cavernous space beneath and motioned for them to climb in. Looking in his mirror he saw John and Bill approaching from behind and he immediately started to move forward, even before the girls had managed to prost
rate themselves under the cabin floor. One of them, who might have been pretty without the dirt and the haunted expression, leaned up and held out her hand to him, her bony fingers strained with gratitude. He ignored it, covered up their cramped bodies with his foot and pressed the accelerator.
It was a two-hour journey of slow stopping and starting and Danny could hear one of the girls quietly sobbing. He revved his engine to blot out the noise. The reality of what he had done only occurred to him when he approached the first Russian checkpoint. He whispered to the girls to keep quiet, saying one word he hoped they understood: ‘Ruskie’. The truth was he was as dependent for his life on them as they were on him for theirs. A toothy corporal poked his huge hand through the window signalling Danny to hand over his documents. He grinned and Danny tried very hard to smile back. He wondered whether the soldier could see him sweating. He looked as casually as he could at the Moisin rifle hanging from the Russian’s left shoulder and a searing panic swelled up from his stomach. He pressed his foot hard on the floor of his cab, trying to keep the rubber in place and not reveal the heaving chests of the terrified girls. He handed over his documents with a shaking hand that he hoped the guard thought was the result of last night’s alcohol. The guard gave him a knowing smile as Danny signalled a bottle being swigged and with one last look round the cab, the Russian waved him on his way.
The second checkpoint was just a mile down the road. He could hear strangled sobs from beneath his heel and hissed ‘Shhhhh . . . for God’s sake, you’ll get us all killed,’ as they approached.
He imagined the girls stuffing bits of their filthy dresses into their mouths as he strained to listen again. This time there was no sound but he was sure he could hear them breathing. He hoped the two Russian soldiers, who were throwing their heads back at some raucous joke as they approached his cab, were too preoccupied to look for problems.
‘Docimenty,’ the one on Danny’s side demanded but as Danny reached onto the dashboard to hand the papers over, he was suddenly aware that the second one was examining the floor under his feet very carefully. Danny looked down and spotted a tiny bit of mat that had furled back. From his driver’s seat, he couldn’t see anything but he could not be sure that the Russian was not able to glimpse a tiny bit of red dress.
Danny had to do something – and fast.
He delved into his top pocket and found the St Christopher medal that his mother had given him. He had laughed at her – a good Church of England parishioner – but she said she wanted to make sure he had all the help he could get. He handed it to the soldier on the far side of the cab. The soldier looked suspiciously at it, then bit on it, realised it was silver and broke into a broad grin. The other soldier quickly went round the front of the cab, arguing. Danny looked in his wing mirror and saw them almost coming to blows as he drew slowly away from them, waiting in sick anticipation to see whether they were going to stop him. A senior officer approached the men, who were now getting into an angry tussle. He shouted at them and Danny took the opportunity to speed up slightly. He whispered to the girls they were through. There was no sound.
‘Don’t tell me they’re dead,’ he thought. ‘Not after all that.’ The rest of the journey left Danny straining with every sinew listening for noises from below, but none came.
‘That would be just my luck,’ he thought, ‘now I’ll have two bodies to explain.’
Finally, he approached the British Safe Zone, but the penalty here for helping the enemy would be severe, even if they were dead. He signalled to Bill that he needed a leak and pulled over by a large oak tree. He gingerly pulled back the rubber mat and saw the girls, each with their tattered cardigans stuffed in their mouths. They were almost blue with lack of oxygen but they staggered out as he told them to run into the woods. He hoped his German was up to scratch and that they would understand him. He did not have time to say it twice.
He jumped out of his truck and tried not to look over his shoulder. Pretending to unzip his fly with a trembling hand, he heard the girls behind him. The same one who had tried to take his hand touched him on the arm as she stumbled round the side of the truck. There was so much meaning in that touch that Danny almost recoiled with the heat from it. He looked around and saw tears pouring down her ashen cheeks. ‘Lord, she’s younger than Maureen,’ he thought.
Shaken, he turned to go back towards the wagon. The last he saw of them was a flash of faded red cherries on the hem of one of their dresses disappearing into the woods. The former chorister at Manchester Anglican Cathedral School said a heartfelt thank you to the Catholic St Christopher.
That night, they bivouacked outside Berlin. Danny bent into the cab and replaced the mat properly. He felt beneath the rubber and his fingers touched something. Bending further in, he stretched his index finger and thumb to try and grasp whatever it was. Finally, he reached it and pulled it out. It was a child’s dummy. Danny sat down suddenly on the ground, clutching the plastic object, and closed his eyes.
All sorts of scenarios flashed before him. A dead child, a child to be re-found, a pregnancy from a rape? He decided to go with the child to be re-found and spent a moment imagining a scene where the girl tracked down her baby and they were reunited in the west to live a life together, playing games, talking about the English soldier who risked his life to save the mother.
For a moment, Danny felt the whole war had been leading up to this moment. An instant decision that would make a difference, something that would leave an imprint, a good imprint, forever. He imagined children, grandchildren, great grandchildren who would talk about how their ancestor had hidden in a British army truck to escape from marauding Russians and ruthless authorities. For the first time in months, he felt good about himself.
Chapter 53
The commanding officer fingered the papers in front of him. Lily’s teeth were chattering and she was sure he could see her knees knocking. She looked down at them to will them to stop trembling but they ignored her, she noticed with a frown.
‘LACW Mullins, we have considered your statement carefully and we have talked to your colleagues, but I am afraid we are left with no alternative than to assume some sort of collusion between you and Sergeant Horrocks. We only have your word against hers and despite testimony from Hill and Colville, I am afraid this case must go to a military court.’
Lily’s knees finally buckled and she started to sway.
‘ATTENTION!’ the commanding officer, a man in his forties barked. His stern face brooked no excuses and Lily forced herself to stand tall and look straight ahead.
‘You were seen near the medical centre on the night the sergeant took her life and we believe she may have coerced you into obtaining medical supplies to end her life.’
Lily’s mouth opened but no words came out. Her mind was racing and she re-traced the night when Sergeant Horrocks verbally attacked her. She had not even registered that she was standing next to the Med Centre.
‘You will have your chance to have your say at the hearing but obtaining medical supplies is a serious offence and if we find that you had anything to do with helping Sergeant Horrocks kill herself then the consequences will be severe.
‘You will be assigned legal representation but for now, all leave is cancelled and you must stay on base. You will continue with your duties. Dismissed.’
Lily swirled on her heels and walked out of the door. When she reached the corridor, she slumped against the wall outside the office.
‘What’s up with yous, Sassenach?’
Lily looked up to see Glad striding down the corridor, holding an armful of files.
‘Oh Glad, I am sooo very glad to see you!’ Lily started to cry hysterically and then Glad scooped her up in her arms, dropping the files into a scattered mess on the floor.
It took all Gladys’s Scottish pragmatism to calm Lily down and get her out of the hearing of the commanding officer. She stopped only to gather up her files and then hustled the weeping girl out of the building.
‘What . . . are you . . . doing here?’ Lily gasped between sobs.
‘Been transferred, upgraded too,’ Glad added proudly, lifting her head high. ‘All office work but that suits me fine. I’ve found I actually like being clean and tidy and not smelling of those kitchen cabbages for a change. I might take up a new career in a nice office when this party’s over. So, what’s been happening to yous?’
They were both going off-duty so they made their way to the NAAFI. Two cups of tea later, Lily had filled Gladys in on the Sergeant Horrocks affair. Gladys frowned.
‘Seems to me, you need a few friends in high places,’ she said mysteriously. ‘Leave it to me.’
Lily was too tired to ask any more and it suddenly seemed perfectly feasible that this Scottish prostitute could save her from being court martialled. She decided to do exactly as she asked.
*
The shifts were as busy as ever and while Lily was dealing with more and more inexperienced sprogs finding their way across the skies, she actually had little time to fret about the impending case. The other girls were beginning to go out more as better and better news started to filter through about the end of the war being near, but Lily hardly noticed. She was receiving letters from Danny but they were perfunctory, sparse and very short and, she recognised with a sinking heart, lacking in any warmth. The ones from Alice were enthusiastic and excited as she prepared for her wedding. Lily’s mum’s letters moaned about the worsening shortages but she was as resourceful as ever. Lily determinedly wrote back lively replies, saying as little as possible in as many words as she could.