by Iain Gale
He turned to the major. ‘Right, sir. You get your chaps down there to the beach. I’ll wait up here with my man and direct any others. He stood at the top of the gully and as the gunners slid down to the sand he looked back towards St Valéry, hoping to see more men.
Madeleine stood beside him, shivering, despite the huge coat. She turned to him. ‘Do you think others will come?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know how many the colonel told about this place. We’ll go down ourselves soon. I just want to make sure we get everyone we can away.’
He had just finished speaking when he heard voices out in the night coming from the direction of the town. Lamb drew his revolver, then remembered that he was out of ammunition and had forgotten to scrounge any from the Yeomanry. He swore, but kept his pistol pointed in the direction of the noise. Gradually he made out a group of men walking towards them through the darkness. British uniforms. ‘Who are you?’
‘Jimmy Dallmeyer, A Squadron, 1st Lothians. And five of my men. We’ve a wounded officer too. We’re trying to get off. Someone, a colonel, mentioned a boat on the east beach. Are we going the right way?’
‘You’ve found it. Down there. You’ll find some gullies. That’s the way.’
They walked in out of the night and Lamb looked at their tired faces, but when he saw the officer he gave a start. ‘Good God! Brigadier Meadows. It’s Lamb, sir. Lieutenant Lamb.’
The brigadier moved his head towards him, but Lamb saw to his horror that the man’s eyes were entirely covered by a bandage. ‘Lamb. Great heavens. There’s a stroke of luck. There you are, Jimmy. I told you I was good luck. This is the fellow I was telling you about. ’Straordinary chap. Well done, Lamb. Where are we to go?’
‘Not far, sir. Just a few more yards and you’ll be on the beach.’
‘Seen what they’ve done to me, Lamb? Bloody Boche. Can’t see a damned thing. Blinded by a grenade. What the bastards couldn’t do in ’16 they’ve damn well managed now. Still, ’spose I was too old anyway. Not my war, d’you see? Your war now, you young chaps. I don’t deserve to get back. What use am I? And like this?’
Lamb shook his head. ‘You may be no use at all, Brigadier, but you did me a favour and now I’m doing you one. You’re going home. Careful, sir. See you on board.’
Lamb watched as the Lothians helped Meadows down the gullies and through the dunes. There was a shout from below and a man in naval uniform came bounding up one of the groynes. ‘Lieutenant Killam, HMS Codrington. We’re here to get you off, but you should hurry. We’ve seen Jerry trucks heading this way from the east.’
Lamb thanked him and, with Madeleine in front, edged down the gully to the beach. Five orderly queues snaked through the dark across the sand towards the sea, each of them controlled by a naval officer, and Lamb watched as the men waited their turn to get into the little landing boats that would ferry them out to the waiting destroyers. There must have been eight or nine large ships of the line out there, he thought, plus a number of smaller boats, and his heart leapt at the thought that they might just succeed in getting off more than he had hoped.
The rain was heavier now and the fog and the oil cloud still hung over the Channel, and Lamb could only thank God that so far the German artillery was bombarding the town and had not turned its attention to the little evacuation from Veules. He looked around the beach for signs of his command. The colonel had done well, for the sand was a mass of khaki-clad men. Lamb’s stomach felt hollow as he wondered for a moment whether his men were among them. Surely they could have not come so far, only to be beaten at the last? Then he saw them, unmistakable, lined up in the fourth queue. Bennett and Mays even looked as if they were smiling as they lit up. He walked across with Madeleine.
He tapped Bennett on the arm. ‘Sarnt Bennett, you might need to dress that line.’
Bennett beamed at him. ‘Mister Lamb, sir. Thank God. We’d just about given you up. And the lady too. Hello, Miss.’
The others turned round and, seeing Lamb, broke ranks to come and see him.
Lamb looked about. ‘Any sign of the colonel, Bennett?’
‘Well, he turned up here an hour ago, sir, with the best part of a battalion, 2nd Duke of Wellington’s, almost 500 men. They’re over there. Haven’t seen him since.’
Lamb cursed. He had known that the old man wanted his chance to clobber a few of the Boche, and it crossed his mind that the colonel himself might be captured. ‘I’ll hang back. You men get yourselves aboard. I’ll catch you up. Bennett, you help Miss Dujolle.’
Madeleine shook her head. ‘No. I’ll stay with you.’
Bennett nodded. ‘Me too, sir. I’m not leaving you here.’
Bennett stepped forward and with him, much to Lamb’s surprise came Valentine.
‘Corporal?’
‘In for a penny, sir. I’d like to see it out, if you don’t mind, sir.’
Lamb knew better than to argue with any of them. He searched the faces of his men. ‘Sarnt Buck, you’re in charge, until I get back, that is.’
Mays stepped forward. ‘Sir, I know he’s a colonel and all, but we don’t want to lose you now. Not after what you’ve brought us through.’
Lamb looked at him. ‘Thank you, Mays. That means a lot to me. But I think someone should make sure that the colonel gets away. I have a feeling he’s rather more important than he might seem, and it looks as though that someone has to be me.’
Mays nodded, and Lamb and the others turned and began to walk away from the queue and back towards the dunes. The sky above St Valéry glowed orange with the flames from burning houses. Madeleine sat down on the sea grass and wrapped the coat around her while Bennett, Valentine and Lamb stood, looking across the high dunes, back towards the town.
An hour later Lamb was still peering into the darkness beyond the dunes. He turned and looked towards the beach. The orderly queues of British and French soldiers had gone now, replaced by a milling mass of Frenchmen, unsure of what to do or where to turn. As he watched, the Royal Navy beach party landed their boat, and while two ratings guarded it with levelled sub-machine guns Lieutenant Killam climbed out and walked across to Lamb. ‘I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I’m told it’s now or never. The Captain’s very anxious to get away. They’ve already sunk four ships off the harbour. They’re bound to turn on us soon.’
‘But I’m waiting for someone. A colonel on the Staff.’
‘Sorry, Lieutenant. My instructions are most specific. We wait for no one, not even the general. Commander Elkins’s orders. We have a time to go, and the Jerries won’t wait. If we don’t go now we won’t be going anywhere.’
‘I see.’
He walked back to Madeleine and Bennett. She was sitting on a sand dune wrapped in the coat but without her tin hat on now. Lamb bent over her and, not caring any more what anyone thought or made of it, held her in his arms and kissed her as if he would never see her again. Which he believed might well be true. He looked into her eyes. ‘You have to go now, my love. You mustn’t stay.’
She shook her head and looked away. ‘I won’t leave without you. No.’
He turned to Valentine. ‘Take care of her, Corporal. We’ll join you soon, I’m sure. I’ve just got to try and find the colonel.’
Valentine shook his head. ‘Sorry sir. I can’t do that.’
Lamb stared at him. ‘It’s an order, Corporal.’
‘Sorry, sir. I’m not leaving without you, Mister Lamb. Sorry, sir. That’s the way it is. Either we both go or we both stay.’
Lamb turned to Bennett. ‘Sarnt Bennett? What do I do? You heard him.’
‘Yes, sir. And I’m not going neither.’
Lamb shook his head and turned to Killam. ‘Lieutenant, would you help me, please? Will you take care of this young lady? She must get to England, at all costs.’
‘It’s most irregular, but yes, I’ll do it. God knows there are stranger things going on on this beach. Goodbye, Lamb, and good luck. I hope you find your colonel.’
Lamb knew that Madeleine was too weak to fight him, and he knew too that she realised this was their only hope, that if there was some way of his reaching her he would find it. She looked at him for a last time before Killam ushered her into the boat. Lamb looked away as it cast off.
Bennett stood beside him. Valentine meanwhile, desperate for a piss, wandered off behind a nearby dune. Bennett spoke. ‘Right, sir. What do we do now?’
‘Now we wait for the colonel and hope that he turns up before the Germans. And then we try to find another boat.’
There was noise behind them – the sound of a gun being cocked. Lamb began to turn slowly. He did not want to be shot in the back. He had not expected the Germans to arrive so soon.
‘Hands up please, gentlemen.’ The voice he heard was not German, but English, and raising his hands in the air he turned quickly, and found himself looking into the eyes of Captain Campbell.
Campbell had changed. He was thinner and paler and his left arm was strapped across his chest. Most strikingly, the right side of his face was a mass of burnt flesh, on which someone had tried to place a dressing, with little success. But it was his eyes that most alarmed Lamb. They had a look of utter madness about them. He pointed the gun directly at Lamb’s head and leered at him: ‘My dear Lieutenant, how very slippery you are. Like an eel. How hard to catch! But here we are at last.’ His voice was slurred. Lamb was sure he had been drinking, perhaps to numb the pain.
Lamb stared at him. ‘I heard you were dead.’
‘I believe there was a rumour. I did get a bit shot up, as you can see. We ran into some tanks near Fécamp. Made a bit of a mess of my face.’ He grimaced. ‘Hurts a bit too. So, Mister Lamb, what are we going to do with you? You appear to be above the law. Or do you just have friends in high places? Either way, if the military process won’t do what is necessary, then I will.’ He straightened his arm as if he was about to shoot.
Lamb played for time: ‘And what then, Campbell? What of you?’
‘Oh, I’ve a plan all right. I’ve a little boat near here. Dinghy. Bought it off a Frog. She’s in a cave round below the cliffs. I just have time to row out to the ships and then home, and no one’s any the wiser.’
Bennett said, ‘You bastard.’
‘Tut tut, Sarnt Bennett. Speaking out of turn to an officer. You need a lesson in manners.’ In a split second Campbell turned the gun on Bennett and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit him in the shin and, as he fell to the ground with a cry of pain Lamb ran at Campbell. But the captain backed off and turned the again gun on Lamb, with a few feet to spare.
‘No, no, Lieutenant. You can’t die a hero’s death. You attacked me, a superior officer. Remember? You and Bennett. Do you know what that feels like? Do you know how frightening and insulting that is? Your problem is that you’re not a real officer and you’re most certainly not a gentleman. You part-time Johnnies think you can swan into the army, my army, but you can’t. It’s not like that. You have no code of honour, no idea of what’s right. You’re a fake, Lamb, not a proper officer. You won’t win this war. You’re a bad lot, and you need to be weeded out and culled.’
Lamb said nothing. He looked across at Bennett, who was writhing on the ground, clutching his wounded leg.
‘What d’you think, Lamb? Would that be fair? Would that be . . .’
Campbell stopped suddenly and stood transfixed for a moment before grasping madly at his back. He spun round, and Lamb could see the hilt of a knife protruding from his shoulder as he sank to his knees on the wet sand.
A figure appeared from behind Campbell. Valentine said as he walked towards them, ‘In the nick of time, sir, wouldn’t you say?’
Lamb saw a movement to his left but was too late to shout a warning as Campbell raised his gun again and fired. Valentine clutched his left shoulder and crumpled to the sand, and in the same instant Lamb threw himself on Campbell, knocking the gun from his hand. Campbell screamed as Valentine’s knife slipped deeper into his shoulder and Lamb punched hard into the wound. Lamb saw another more slender knife in the space between their faces, up and flashing in Campbell’s hand, and felt it being pushed up against his neck. He raised his hand to Campbell’s wrist and grasped it, but the point of the blade was on his throat now and it was all he could do to hold it away. He felt the tip prick the skin and a trickle of blood on his stubble.
Then, with a swift single action of massive strength, he turned the blade and pushed down hard. The knife slid deep into Campbell’s neck and lodged itself in his carotid artery. The blood flowed freely, and Lamb looked into the captain’s staring eyes until they glazed over.
Lamb stood up and wiped his hands on his trousers, then ran over to Valentine. The corporal was sitting up against a dune with his hand on his shoulder and Lamb could see that the fingers were covered in blood.
‘You’re hit. Let me see.’
‘Not bad, sir. First time. Doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.’
Lamb looked. The bullet seemed to have hit Valentine’s left shoulder and Lamb wondered if it had passed through his lung. He’d been lucky. ‘I think you’ll live.’
He looked across to where Bennett was lying and hurried over. ‘How is it, Sarnt?’
‘Bloody hurts, sir. He’d have shot you, that bastard.’
‘Thank you, Sarnt. You did well.’
He ripped the leg of Bennett’s trousers and exposed the wound. The bullet had passed through the muscle of the tibia and the exit wound was not a pretty sight. ‘You need attention too. Come on. We’d better get you out to that ship if we can. We’ll have to leave the colonel to the Jerries.’
He helped Bennett to his feet and, supporting him on his shoulder, walked back to Valentine, who had managed to get up and was staunching the wound. They looked down at Campbell’s body, the blood crusting on the sand.
Lamb turned to Valentine. ‘That’s the second time you’ve saved my life, Corporal. I thought you bore me a grudge.’
‘On the contrary, sir, I admire you.’
‘What?’
‘Well, sir. Life’s so simple for you, so black and white. For men like me, sir, it’s all about shades of grey. We need men like you, sir. What Captain Campbell said – that was nonsense. His army’s washed up. This lot shows that. There’s no mindless code of honour any more. Not the ridiculous sort he meant. Of course there’s decency, but the army’s different. We need new men. Men like you are going to win this war.’
Lamb shook his head. ‘No, Valentine. On the contrary, men like you will win this war, and you’ll win the future too. Come on, let’s see if we can find Campbell’s boat.’
There was a sudden explosion from behind them.
‘Christ, we’d better get a move on.’
As they began to hobble towards the cliffs, hoping that they would find the cave Campbell had mentioned, they were disturbed by a noise from one of the gullies on their left and surprised to see a British soldier sliding down the dunes onto the beach, driving before him at gunpoint a furious German officer.
The colonel smiled at them broadly. ‘Lamb, you waited. Thank God. Had to come away with something else, you see. Sort of souvenir, if you like. Good for morale. Just to prove we can do it. Found this brute standing by a tank at the top of the cliffs. Answers to the name of Kessler.’
They found Campbell’s boat, a small motor launch with an outboard, moored in a cave, and between them, with Kessler tied up in the prow, Lamb and the colonel managed to heave it into the water. They helped Valentine and Bennett in and made them as comfortable as they could before getting in themselves, and as they did so Lamb saw movement above the dunes: the lights of half a dozen vehicles. ‘Christ, they’re here. Come on.’
He tugged at the outboard motor, but she refused to start. Again. Come on, he thought. For me. Come on, you bugger. He pulled and the motor sprang into life, sending the little craft ploughing into the water and away from the beach. Behind him he could hear shouts and then an officer giving a command. Bullets
struck the water around them. One of them hit the side of the boat, sending splinters into the air. More shots whistled past his ears. He laughed and then felt a sudden stabbing pain in his arm, close to where he’d been hit at the Dyle, and then his sleeve was drenched in blood. Carefully, he moved seats and took the rudder with his left hand.
They were making good speed and he could see the destroyer ahead of them. She had a head of steam up and was obviously preparing to move, and he prayed they would see them approaching. As they grew closer, a German gun opened up from the cliffs. The shell flew straight but landed a little short of the Codrington, rocking their boat with the force of the explosion underwater. Then they were hard alongside.
Shouts came from high above them and Lamb stood up and helped Bennett to the side. A rating had climbed down the netting and grabbed at the sergeant’s arm, hauling him up over the slippery ropes. Valentine was next, and then the colonel, pushing Kessler before him. Finally, Lamb managed to scramble up the net and climbed the railings onto the deck, half pulled over by two sailors.
He could feel the ship moving beneath him as another shot came in, closer. The destroyer began to move faster through the waters of the Channel, out to sea.
Lamb bent double and retched up sea water, then straightening up he scoured the deck for his company and Madeleine. It was packed with British and French soldiers, many of them wounded. A sea of faces stared back at him and then, in a far part of the deck, close to a bulwark, he saw a group of bedraggled men. He found Bennett, gave him his shoulder and together they crossed the deck, pushing through the crowd.
Corporal Mays saluted him with a smile. ‘Hello, sir. Didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘To tell you the truth, Mays, I didn’t expect to be here either. Well done, all of you. Good work.’