by Jules Wake
‘Oh no.’
‘Let’s hear what Colonel Myers has to say. Here he comes.’
The Colonel, flanked by Lieutenant Colonel Weston and all the different section heads, Navy, Army and RAF, strode to the front of the church and without a moment’s hesitation climbed straight into the pulpit. Everyone fell silent immediately, eyes swivelling towards him.
‘Well, this is a turn-up, I’m afraid. Officially our orders are that we have to stay out of the building until the Royal Engineers get here. There’s a team coming out from London pronto. If you could all report to your section leaders, we’ll give further instructions. The key thing is that we keep the integrity of this site, maintain what we can and at the same time protect the village. We don’t want the local fire wardens coming up here.’
Betty realised that his vague observations were to cover every member of personnel, as not everyone knew what went on here. Elsie and her assistants standing a few rows along had no idea that there were German prisoners of war just a few hundred yards from her kitchen.
‘I’ve stationed a couple of men at the gate in case anyone has raised the alarm. I’ll go down there to brief the team when they arrive and explain where the bomb is. Likely thing is that they’ll have to dig it out to get to the fuse. It could take some time, if they manage to defuse it.’
There was a ripple through the assembled crowd. No one was in any doubt of the dangers faced by the men that had to disarm a bomb. Betty, like many of the ATS girls who’d served in London, knew that during the Blitz the life expectancy of a bomb disposal officer had been ten weeks.
As Myers descended from the pulpit, everyone began to move, searching out their units and their senior officers for further instructions. Betty saw Evelyn go into a huddle with the other Navy uniformed officers as she went towards the chapel where Major Wendermeyer and his British Army opposite number, Major Smith, were corralling the team together.
Betty crowded around the two men with the rest of the team and listened as they gave a quick briefing.
‘Obviously we’ll have to wait until the bomb disposal boys get here, so you’d best make yourselves comfortable for the time being,’ said Major Wendermeyer. ‘It’s not safe for anyone to return to their quarters. In the meantime, the Major and I will take a small team back to the office to retrieve what we can before the Royal Engineers get here. They’ll stop anyone going back in, but if that bomb blows we’ll lose valuable intel, and we can’t afford to allow that. No one is under any obligation to come with us but if anyone feels like volunteering, we could do with a few hands.’
Betty stared at him. All that work. They couldn’t let it go up in smoke. There was so much there that might help, especially the recent information they were picking up about the radar systems, the secret weapons and the coastal defences in the Low Countries.
As Major Wendermeyer moved among them, talking to a few of the men on the team, she stepped forward. ‘I volunteer.’
His face underwent a series of expressions. ‘That’s all right, Sergeant Connors, you don’t need to do that. But thank you for the offer.’
‘But I want to, Sir.’ She couldn’t bear the thought that all the work that she’d been doing would be in vain. The work that any of them were doing. She, Evelyn and Judith, like everyone here, had been working so hard recently. She was proud of what she was achieving. For the first time in the war, she genuinely believed, she, Betty Connors, was making a difference.
‘You really don’t need to, Connors,’ he said, more sharply this time.
She gave him a level look, lifting her chin, meeting his eyes. ‘But I want to.’ This time there was a steely determination in her words, challenging him.
His mouth tightened and he held her gaze but she wasn’t budging. She lifted her chin higher.
He huffed out an exasperated sigh. ‘Very well, Connors. Meet me in the church porch in two minutes. I need to speak to Colonel Myers.’
Betty turned on her heel and made her way to the back of the church, passing Evelyn, who was being handed a rifle. She gave her a surprised glance and Evelyn gave her a rueful smile across the heads of the other officers. Betty gave her a quick nod. They each had to do what they had to do. She wished she knew where Judith was. Knowing the other girl’s dedication, she assumed she was probably still at work. Betty had no idea in which part of the building either of her roommates worked, it wasn’t something they’d ever discussed. She prayed that Judith was somewhere safe.
As they approached the building, one of the officers handed out tin hats – no one was reprimanded for the fact that they all had them but they were still in their quarters. No one had ever thought there’d be any danger here. Betty’s hands trembled as she fumbled the strap under her chin. Please don’t let anyone see, she prayed. Now that she was here, her earlier spine had deserted her. It was all very well to be brave when you were safe. What had she been thinking? Trying to impress the Major? Prove something? She swallowed. What if the bomb went off while they were in the office? They’d be right in the bomb blast. Her hand strayed to her nose thinking of poor Barbara Clarke.
‘Everyone ready?’ Major Smith looked at them one by one.
The words stuck in her throat. No, she wasn’t ready. Not at all. She clenched her hands to stop them shaking. They moved quietly up the wide staircase with the speed and determination of a battle-hungry unit. There were ten of them, all men bar Betty and a battle-axe of a woman, Sergeant Major Baxter, who didn’t seem to like any of those under her. As Betty’s hand touched the rich mahogany of the sweeping banister, she wondered what the house must make of its new occupants. It had gone from the world of Lady Chesham in her silk Chanel evening gowns, drifting through its rooms, genteel and delicate, to sturdy women in uniform thundering along corridors with purpose and dedication. Was this the future? Or would things ever go back to how they’d been before?
Once they reached their room, Major Smith drew down the blackout blinds and the heavy yellow damask curtains at the diamond-leaded windows, as if that might protect them, and they worked as fast as they could in the dim light with torches, filling boxes with papers under Baxter’s direction. Battle-axe or not, she knew exactly what was where. With direct, concise decisions she prioritised which of the filing cabinets needed to be emptied, which desks cleared and what could be left behind. Betty was given the job of tying bundles of paper with string to keep the reports, relevant statements, and transcripts together before putting them into the few boxes they’d been able to gather. The rest were going into shopping baskets, empty desk drawers and anything suitable for carrying files that they could find.
With their first load ready to go, it was agreed that they’d take it down to the front hall where it could be stored in the big stone porch before coming back for more. Major Smith was anxious that no one should be left behind, so they all gathered up what they could and moved quickly down the stairs to the hallway by the front door. Betty was at the rear with Major Wendermeyer when a lorry roared up to the front of the house, spitting gravel as it came.
‘Hell’s teeth,’ said Major Smith. ‘We’ll have to take what we’ve got. That’s a blow.’
There was still another stack of paperwork upstairs.
Uniformed soldiers bundled out of the lorry, unloading wheelbarrows, shovels and large planks of wood, and beyond them Betty saw Colonel Myers coming up the drive on foot.
‘Hey you! What are you all doing here?’ a stern voice bellowed. ‘You need to evacuate the building immediately. Is there anyone else in there?’
The man in front of Betty who’d stepped out from the porch looked back. Wendermeyer shook his head, putting his fingers over his lips.
‘No, Sir,’ said the man, as Wendermeyer slipped back into the shadows. Betty stepped back.
‘No, you go,’ he said urgently.
‘No, they haven’t seen me. There’s still too much to leave. Even if we only get it down to the porch, it’s still safer than in the offices. That bomb co
uld bring down the whole of that wing.’
‘Yes, which is why you should go.’
She shook her head, even though the thought of going back up those stairs terrified her. She could never live with herself if she left and he was the only one here. No one should die alone.
‘I’m staying.’ Her resolute look had him sighing as he watched the other eight members of the team scoop up their loads from the porch and begin to carry them down the path to the church.
For the hundredth time in the last hour, her fingers strayed to her nose, stroking the bridge, and she said a silent prayer before following the Major back up the stairs.
Chapter Fifteen
Evelyn
It had been a while since she’d held a shotgun but a rifle wasn’t so very different. At least she hoped not. Thank goodness she’d pestered her brother to teach her to shoot and that Daddy had allowed her to join in the grouse shooting every August rather than be left behind with the other ladies.
‘Ready?’ asked Freddie.
‘As I’ll ever be.’ She shot him a quick nervous grin as they filed out of the packed church towards the back entrance of the house where the prisoners were kept.
‘I’m glad you are. So much for this being a cushy number. My mother would have kittens if she knew, and yours.’ Freddie winced. ‘Not what she’d want for her little girl.’
‘She’s been destined for disappointment on that front for a long time.’ Ever since Evelyn had given up her place at Oxford, to be precise. Her mother had finally accepted that Evelyn wasn’t going to settle into the role of debutante, although it had been plain for years to her father, who’d written to her congratulating her on her decision to join the Navy and told her how proud of her he was and how delighted to hear that she was following the family tradition of doing one’s duty.
‘Let’s hope this bally bomb doesn’t blow.’
‘Fingers crossed.’ Evelyn hefted her rifle onto her shoulder as they walked through the tree-lined path to the prefabricated H-block of cells. It felt good to be doing something and she was glad she hadn’t been left in the church. In her head, she thanked her brother for always letting her tag along. It would have been unbearable to sit idle.
Until they knew the size of the bomb, there was no way of knowing how far its blast might impact, but Myers couldn’t afford to take any risks. They’d each been allocated a partner and the two of them were responsible for escorting two prisoners from their cells to an underground holding facility beneath the house. Time was now of the essence, to escort the prisoners before the Royal Engineers arrived. Myers was worried that if the bomb did go off, the prisoners could escape, which would not only cause mayhem but give rise to an awful lot of inconvenient questions.
The usual prison guards had been stationed around the perimeter as an extra safeguard but Myers wanted those fluent in German to deal with the prisoners, so as not to alarm them but also so as not to give them any ideas about mass flight. Escorting them all at the same was a considered risk, hence arms being provided. They were probably breaking a ton of military regulations but that was Myers all over. Needs must was his eternal motto.
They approached the cell and the guard unlocked the door. Evelyn handed him her rifle as she mentally rehearsed the script they’d been given. Freddie would be armed as she blindfolded the men. She wanted to make sure she sounded authoritative and in charge, not that they were winging it. The instruction was to get the prisoners into a tunnel under the house. Myers had decided it would be the safest place and the easiest to guard. Apparently the tunnel was built with the house in the 1860s, although Evelyn couldn’t imagine why. What purpose would it have served? It seemed an expensive extravagance for ensuring the family didn’t get wet on the way to matins. According to one of her early briefings in that first week after she’d arrived, since CSDIC moved into the building the tunnel was designated the main escape route in the unfortunate event that the country was invaded.
Today the plan was to use part of the tunnel as a holding area. The only problem was, because of where the bomb was situated on the path between the house and the cells, the only way of accessing the tunnel was through the M room, which was incredibly risky, especially as none of the officers had ever seen it and it had been agreed that the usual soldiers responsible for guarding the prisoners shouldn’t be made aware of it, which was why Evelyn and her fellow officers would be escorting the German prisoners. It was imperative to keep the knowledge of the room and its purpose between as few people as possible. The current shift of listeners were still in situ as it had been decided that they were comparatively safe in the cellar.
Evelyn spoke in German: ‘We’re here to escort you to a new holding cell. We need to put these on.’ It came out clumsily, she’d meant to be more authoritative, but now it came to it, she was acutely uncomfortable about blindfolding them. It seemed easy enough, talking about it in the packed church surrounded by friends and colleagues. Normally when interrogating a fellow officer, she treated them as equals, as human beings. Blindfolding someone seemed inhumane, an unpleasant demonstration of power, and it didn’t sit well with her. People were blindfolded before they were executed. Freddie looked equally ill at ease.
The Luftwaffe pilot in the bottom bunk rose, frowning in suspicion. ‘Why? Where are we going?’
Words failed her for a second. With his blond hair, steel-grey blue eyes and sharp cheekbones, in the dim light he looked just like Peter.
‘Stand up and turn around,’ she said briskly, hoping her voice didn’t betray her. She glanced at Freddie who seemed as disconcerted as she was and narrowed her eyes at his gun. He got the message. ‘Put your hands above your head and do as you’re told.’
The pilot ignored them as the second man, a U-boat engineer, looked down from the upper bunk with wide blue eyes. Damn, thought Evelyn. Of the two of them he clearly would have been more compliant. She hoped he wouldn’t follow his cellmate’s lead.
‘Where are you taking us?’ The pilot thrust his chin forward, bullish and demanding. He isn’t Peter, she told herself, wanting to reassure him. She was desperate to tell him it was for his own safety but they’d been expressly forbidden to talk about the bomb. ‘It will be easier not to answer any questions,’ they’d been told. ‘You are in charge.’
‘Hands on your head. Turn round,’ she repeated, her heart thudding. She gripped the cotton fabric in her clammy hands.
He stood defiantly, his feet set apart as if anchoring him to the floor, his arm muscles bunching.
Evelyn couldn’t afford to give an inch. She jutted her chin out and met his belligerent stare, taking a step forward, pretending to be far braver than she felt. Inside she wanted to back away.
‘I said, turn around.’ There was a flicker in his eyes and she thought she’d lost but then he sneered at her and insultingly slowly turned around.
She eased out a tiny sigh of relief and gripped her hands into fists to steady them before she lifted them to thread the blindfold through the crook of one of the man’s raised arms. Determined not to show any weakness, she took her time, carefully knotting the fabric and making sure the broad strip of material covered his eyes and that there was no way he could see anything.
Freddie stood at attention, the rifle focused on the man as Evelyn turned with regal disdain and looked up at the other man on the top bunk.
‘Now you,’ she said.
He nodded. She kept her face blank, not showing her immediate relief at his simple acquiescence. Once down the ladder he turned without being asked, raised his hands and she tied the blindfold.
The guard was to accompany them to the entrance of the M room and from there they were on their own.
‘Keep your hands on your head.’
She retrieved her rifle, grateful that Freddie and not she had had to point it at someone. If it came to it, could she shoot someone? It wasn’t a question she’d ever asked herself before and yet the men in her family would have to do it without hesitation.
The men on the front had to shoot without reservation.
They ushered the prisoners out of the cell and down the path towards the house and Evelyn held her rifle tightly, every nerve ending on alert. Her cheery gung-ho attitude had dissolved in shame and irritation with herself. It wasn’t a game. Never had been and yet she’d been sucked into the easy life. Yes, they worked hard here at Latimer House and there was a lot at stake but they didn’t have to make life-or-death decisions or do battle daily. They were removed from the action and the do-or-die of war. The thought of her brother plunged her into guilt. She would never have to make the sort of decisions that a soldier on the field of battle had to make. Was she fooling herself, that she was making a difference? There was an awful realisation that she wasn’t as brave as she’d imagined. She’d almost quailed under the scorn of the German officer. If he’d pushed harder, what would she have done? Disappointment filled her, tinged with a strong sense of failure. Had she been playing at being an officer all this time?
They came to the entrance to the Nissan hut which led into the M room. Evelyn had never been past this point. The guard nodded and retreated as the door was opened.
‘Put your hand on the shoulder of the man in front of you,’ said Evelyn as Freddie went to stand at the front to guide the first man. Of course, it was the recalcitrant Luftwaffe pilot who stubbornly stood his ground. ‘Where are you taking us?’
She raised her rifle and prodded him in the back.
Perhaps if she hadn’t been so frightened herself, she might have realised how frightened he must have been but she was focused on getting the job done and didn’t have time or room for any other thought.
The man immediately put his hand on the shoulder of his cellmate and they set off through the first door, then to the second, entering the top-secret M room. Evelyn wanted to take her time to look around but she didn’t dare; all she registered was the silent, wary faces of the men and two women in the room, one of whom was Judith. She glanced over at her and nodded and gained some small comfort from the encouraging smile she received. It reinforced her defences and reminded her of what people like Judith had suffered and thousands more would, if Hitler wasn’t stopped.