Jubilee- Spies and Raiders

by Conor Bender

  ​“Wherever they send us, No. 4 Commando is all we need. To hell with Command.” First Sergeant Adams locked eyes with Parker as he said it, as if he had read Parker’s mind.

  ​“Damn right, Sarge.” Murray saluted with his pint and drained it. As he did so, the bartender came to their table with a tray of beer.

  ​“Well, lads, how’d it go today?” the bartender, Mr. Rowan, an elderly man with a grizzled beard, asked.

  ​“Those Japs won’t know what hit them, Mr. Rowan! You can count on that!” Carter grinned as he reached for a beer.

  ​“Japs? I thought we were fighting Jerry?”

  ​“You heard wrong, old man. They’re sending us to Burma,” Callum said as Tarbor handed him a mug from the tray. “That’s why the Yanks are here.” He nodded to Murray and Carter. “These two are fluent in their gobbledygook language.”

  ​“Where the bloody hell is Burma?”

  ​“Africa, I think?” Ferguson laughed.

  ​“Christ almighty, you lads don’t even know who you’re fighting! How the bloody hell are we going to win?”

  ​“That’s why we have the Royal Navy, Mr. Rowan.” Parker smiled.

  ​“Damn fools.” Mr. Rowan put the tray under his arm and fixed First Sergeant Adams with a serious stare. “I better have a closed-out tab from you lot before you all leave.”

  ​First Sergeant Adams frowned, but fished into his pocket and pulled out a few quid. “This should cover it, Mr. Rowan, and one or two more rounds.”

  ​Mr. Rowan snatched the money from Adams’s hand with unusual alacrity, like a snake striking. “Thank you kindly, Mr. Adams.”

  ​“Mr. Rowan, make sure you don’t tell anyone what we’re talking about. Loose lips sink ships, and all that.” Callum smirked.

  ​Mr. Rowan waved an annoyed hand at them and started to walk off. “Wouldn’t matter if I told anyone; they’d just look at me and call me daft.”

  ​“Just wait, our orders are actually going to be for Burma.” Tarbor laughed once Mr. Rowan was out of earshot.

  ​“I certainly hope not. My brother is there. He says the bloody Japanese are savages. They behead prisoners,” Ferguson said seriously.

  ​“That’s some nice tavern banter, Fergy. I appreciate that,” Murray said with a hint of annoyance.

  ​“I was just saying,” Fergy protested.

  ​“Well, just say that somewhere else,” Tarbor agreed. The table went quiet at that. Parker looked over at the door. A handful of His Majesty’s sailors had trickled into the bar along with a few girls from the town.

  ​Parker checked his watch. It was getting late. He took a hearty draft from his glass and stood up. “Well, gentlemen, I don’t know about you, but I think I’ll call it a night. I don’t want to hear about any of you getting into any scuffle with our naval service brethren.”

  ​First Sergeant Adams stood as well. “I think I’ll turn in too, sir.”

  ​“First Sergeant, you should stick around! The amount of money you gave Mr. Rowan was enough to buy the entire pub a round five times over!”

  ​“I thought I gave him one pound and twenty-five pence?” First Sergeant Adams frowned and looked back over at Mr. Rowan. The old man was studiously scrubbing a smudge out of the bar.

  ​“You gave him five bob, First Sergeant.”

  ​“Goddammit!” First Sergeant Adams roared. He turned and glared at Mr. Rowan, who had coincidentally proceeded to take the sailors orders.

  ​“Nothing you can do about it, First Sergeant. Good night, gentlemen. I’ll make sure they stay out of trouble,” Callum said quickly, motioning the two of them toward the door.

  ​Parker nodded, not entirely confident in that statement. Adams frowned but nodded slowly, and they departed the tavern. As they stepped out onto the street, a haze filled the air. A fog had rolled into the harbor, giving the interspersed gas lanterns along the road an ethereal glow.

  ​The pair of them walked in silence, stewing in their own thoughts. Parker’s mind wandered to Saint-Nazaire, to Normandy, to anywhere that he thought they could be sent. The unknown and lack of information drove him mad. He shot his First Sergeant a glance, his face a wreckage of conflicting thoughts. If Parker had to guess, Adam’s mind was on similar topics.

  ​“Penny for your thoughts?”

  ​Adams chuckled, his eyes never leaving the cobblestone road. “Sir, I don’t think you want to know.”

  ​“No, I really do.”

  ​Adams bit his lip. “I was at Cambrai in the Great War. It was the first time American troops saw combat. We lost forty-four thousand men in over two weeks. We won the battle, but it was costly. I like to think part of the reason for that was the introduction of new techniques and equipment. I can’t help but wonder if we’re about to repeat the same thing on a smaller scale.”

  ​“You don’t think we’re ready?”

  ​“No, I think we are. I’m just concerned, the more complex a mission the more likely it is to fail. I’m worried whatever our mission is, it’s going to be very complex.”

  ​“Because of Lord Lovat’s insistence on being adaptable?”

  ​“I think he understands that our dependence on external units will be a considerable crutch.”

  ​“So what’s your point?”

  ​Adams shrugged. “I guess I’m worried that whatever the mission is, we’ll get left behind. That’s what everyone is telling me happened at Saint-Nazaire.”

  ​“That was a one-time thing.”

  ​“I don’t know, sir. I’m hearing a lot of rumblings from fellow senior enlisted men. I’m hearing that Combined Operations Command is very results-oriented. They don’t care about the body count.” They had kept walking while they talked and had arrived at their quarters. Adams took a deep breath. “All I’m saying is that Lord Lovat better be planning our own egress for wherever this raid is.”

  ​“I’m sure Shimi has the same concerns, First Sergeant,” Parker said with a sly grin.

  ​“Oh, you and he are thick as thieves now, sir?”

  ​Parker laughed. “No, never. The boss is a member of the British aristocracy and I’m the lowly son of a longshoreman.”

  ​“Better than the son of a crook.”

  ​“And look how far we’ve come.”

  ​“True.” Adams nodded. He turned and looked out past the harbor, his eyes searching for nothing in particular. “Eerie isn’t it?”

  ​“What’s that?”

  ​“Here we are, in a sleepy little English town, perfectly at peace, and less than sixty miles away sits the Nazi war machine.”

  ​“Makes you appreciate the Atlantic.”

  ​“Ain’t that the truth.” Adams tuned and saluted Parker. “Good evening, sir.”

  ​“Good evening, First Sergeant.” Parker returned the salute, and turned and made his way toward his quarters. Adams’s observation reverberated in his head. He couldn’t help but agree with what he had said. Combined Operations headquarters seemed apathetic to the loss of life their raids cost. Carver had told Parker a few nasty rumors about Lord Mountbatten, including that he had taken time away from planning the upcoming raid to assist in the production of a movie about his escapades in Crete. What made the rumor more disconcerting was the fact that Mountbatten’s ship was sunk at the battle of Crete. How was that worth making a movie about? Parker tried not to think about it. He trusted Lord Lovat, and for him, that was enough.

  Part III

  The Raid

  CHAPTER 14

  MARCHING ORDERS

  ​“Gentlemen, please take your seats!” Lord Mountbatten called to the room full of commanders of Army, Air, and Naval forces. The War Office conference room was packed with a variety of senior leaders. Hambro did a mental roll call and spotted a number of familiar faces. He spotted Leigh-Mallory and Lord Mountbatten, the brain trust of this operation, at the head of the table, and continued to scan the room. He spotted Field Marshal Montgomery along with General Roberts of t
he Canadian Army. There were a few other senior commanders whom he didn’t recognize immediately. Overall, it was a motley crew of commanders from a melting pot of services and nations.

  ​Freddy Atkinson urgently strode up to Hambro and sat down. “Sir! I went over and looked at the map. There’s no marker on it for the tanks Cutter told us about, or a few other inland garrisons he mentioned.”

  ​Hambro nodded knowingly.

  ​“I don’t understand. I thought we told Combined Operations?”

  ​“We did,” Hambro sighed. “But since Leigh-Mallory’s aircraft have been unable to spot them on any reconnaissance flights, and since we were unable to provide photographic evidence, Mountbatten is disputing their existence.”

  ​“Surely, you can’t be serious! If I tell you the stove is hot but the metal isn’t flaming red, are you going to touch it anyway?”

  ​“That isn’t a bad analogy.”

  ​“What about Cutter?”

  ​Hambro frowned. Since putting him back in Normandy for the raid, both Hambro and Freddy had yet to figure out a viable extraction plan for Cutter. After the raid, it would be difficult to make any movements around Normandy, and Hambro wasn’t keen about the prospect of Cutter staying a second after the raid ended. He studied the map of the area of operation and an idea flickered through his mind. “I think I have a solution.” Hambro spotted Lord Lovat across the room. It’s possible; a bit risky, but it’s possible.

  ​The lights in the room dimmed and Lord Mountbatten took his position at the lectern. “Good morning, gentlemen. Today is the day we have all been waiting for. I just came from the Prime Minister’s office, and Operation JUBILEE is a go.” He turned and looked over at General Roberts and motioned for him to begin.

  ​General Roberts stole a quick glance at General Montgomery, who gave a barely visible nod. With the approval of his commanding general, General Roberts stood up and looked about the room. “Good morning, gentlemen. As you can see on the map, the Canadian 2nd Division will be bearing the brunt of the raid on Dieppe. We will be landing at Green, Red, White, and Blue beaches.”

  ​Hambro listened with limited interest, but eyed the map excitedly. To the west of General Roberts’s beaches was one additional beach, and it belonged to Lord Lovat and was only a few kilometers from where Cutter was.

  ***

  ​“Everyone gather around!” Lord Lovat called from the front of the sand table. A giant layout of the beachheads around Dieppe had been constructed out of the dirt and a tent sat over it to shield it from the rain. Members of No. 4 Commandos and the handful of rangers gathered in close.

  ​Lord Lovat tapped a swagger stick against his thigh as he waited for everyone to get into view of the sand table; Parker, Carver, and First Sergeant Adams moved to the fringes, where the other officers and senior staff noncoms had gathered.

  ​“Right. No doubt all of you have been wondering what the bloody hell we’ve been training for the last month.” Lord Lovat pointed his swagger stick down at the sand table. “Our mission is to raid the French town of Dieppe in northern Normandy. As you can see, we will be assaulting along six beachheads: Yellow, Blue, Red, White, Green, and Orange, going from north to south.” Lord Lovat circled his stick around Red, Green, and White beaches. “Canadian forces along with the Essex Scottish regiment and a commando detachment will be the main effort pushing into Dieppe. As soon as the beachhead is established, armor will roll onto the beach and provide support to the infantry as they move into the city. While this is happening, additional attacks will be happening along Blue and Yellow beaches to protect their left flank.” Lovat moved his swagger stick down and tapped it on Orange Beach. “As all this is happening, we will be seizing Orange Beach. Latest intelligence reports indicate that a German artillery battery is garrisoned in vicinity of the town of Sainte-Marguerite-sur-Mer. Our mission is to land at Orange Beach and destroy that battery.” Lord Lovat paused and looked up at his men, making sure they were understanding what he was saying. “We will be landing in two locations: Orange Beach I and Orange Beach II.” He pointed to both locations. “Captain Aldridge will take Charlie Troop and land at Orange Beach I. It is important to note that this beachhead is not your average landing site. A cliff face lies along the entire stretch of Orange Beach I, with the exception of two crevices that we have been told can be scaled.”

  ​Captain Aldridge raised his hand. “Sir, where are we getting this information about the crevices?”

  ​“I’m afraid I can’t say, but I believe the source to be credible.”

  ​Captain Aldridge grunted, not entirely convinced. He turned and looked at Lieutenant Boyce, searching his face for some sort of confirmation about the rock face.

  ​Lieutenant Boyce bit his lip, his face contorted as the mountaineering expert grappled with the news. After a long pause he shrugged. “Shouldn’t be an issue. I’ve made you chaps go up some pretty difficult terrain.”

  ​“Once Charlie Troop has scaled the crevice, they will conduct a reconnaissance of the battery and confirm its location and hold tight until the rest of us get into position.” Lord Lovat dragged his swagger stick down to Orange Beach II. “As this is happening, A Troop, B Troop, and F Troop will be landing at Orange Beach II. Captains Parker and Carver will take B Troop and F Troop south along the Saâne river and sweep north to hit the Battery from the rear while Major Rackham and I take A Troop west to form up on C Troop’s right flank. Once B Troop and F Troop are in position, they will begin the attack as the main effort with A and C Troop remaining in support. Once the battery has been destroyed, we will move in and secure the perimeter and defend against any German forces attempting to reinforce Dieppe.” He looked around again to make sure there were no confused looks on his men’s faces. “As we are conducting our attack on the ground, we expect the Luftwaffe to attempt to interdict the beaches and disrupt our landings. The RAF will be flying en force to engage whatever air support the Germans send our way. There will be a lot of ordnance being dropped during this operation from both the naval bombardments and our fighters. It is imperative that our unit maintain communication as much as possible as we move. Radios will be provided to each troop as our primary means of communication, followed by smoke signals and runners.”

  ​Parker eyed the terrain model. He liked the plan. It was simple, and in comparison to the rest of the raid, lacked the complexity that risked failure. The only thing he still worried about was their retreat. He raised his hand and Lord Lovat nodded to him. “When will we withdraw?”

  ​“We will hold our ground as long as possible so that the main effort can safely retreat from Dieppe. However, if our situation becomes untenable, we’ll fall back through the tree line and down the cliff to the beach. We will deploy smoke grenades to help cover our retreat and move like hell to create some distance.”

  ​Parker nodded, unsure of how strong the raid’s chances were for success. He suspected he wasn’t the only one. He looked over at First Sergeant Adams and saw the same concern etched on his face.

  ​Captain Carver raised his hand. Lord Lovat nodded to him. “Sir, you mentioned armor. Will any be landing with us?”

  ​“No, all armor will be landing to support the seizure of Dieppe. We will be carrying anti-armor weapons and mortars to help repel any armored attacks.”

  ​“What time do we land?”

  ​“Before first light. We’ll have darkness as we move in.”

  ​Parker saw Callum and Tarbor exchange glances, but said nothing. He had an idea of what they were thinking. They had handled a number of raids and had learned quickly that the smaller the raiding party the greater the chance of success. Saint-Nazaire had displayed the issue with raids by force. The element of surprise would be fickle for such a large assault, and if lost prior to the assault, it could lead to the entire force being thrown back into the sea before they seized any of their objectives.

  ​Parker didn’t like it, the looks going around among his team leaders weren’t d
enoting confidence. He looked back at Lord Lovat and wondered how confident he was in the plan. He looked back over at Adams and saw him raise his hand.

  ​“Sir, what is our egress plan?”

  ​“The boats we came in on are to remain in place on the beach. The last thing I want is for us to retreat and not have boats waiting for us because a naval officer called them away. I made it very clear to the Combined Operations Command that No. 4 Commando will not land unless the boats we are on belong to us and not some prat aboard a battleship.” Lord Lovat locked eyes with Adams, the implicit understanding between them was obvious. “The boats we come in on will have a commando on each one.” Lord Lovat read Adam’s mind. “They’re our lifeline back to England. And although I trust our esteemed colleagues in the naval service, I trust our commandos more to see us home.”

  ​Parker smiled in satisfaction. Lord Lovat wasn’t taking any chances; the commandos who stayed on the boats would kill the yeomen before letting them leave without the raiding party. No. 4 Commando had learned from past mistakes and wasn’t going to be left behind.

  ​“Good. I don’t want the Resistance smuggling me out again,” Carver muttered to Parker.

  ​“Unless there are any questions, that’s all I have. Go brief your troops.”

  ​***

  ​Cutter anxiously looked out the window. It had been days since he and Talia had parted ways with Durand and Claude. The Germans had increased their patrols but had done little in the form of searching French houses. At first it had unnerved Cutter that the Germans weren’t taking to the streets with the gusto he expected, but as the days dragged on he started to believe that the Germans thought that the bombing was a result of an RAF attack conducted without Resistance support. Obersturmführer Amsel had done his usual rounds, giving Cutter his usual veiled threats as he continued to pine for Talia, but other than that there was little change in the day to day. As the days continued to drag by with little to no interference from the Nazis, Cutter started to believe that the Resistance had gotten away with its assassination unscathed. Could they really have been that lucky? It was hard to believe, but was a huge windfall. To be cautious, Cutter had convinced Talia to wait another day before meeting up with Claude and Durand.